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Please return at the circulation desk 
To rerww your material call: 
(650) 723-6691 ext. 3 

Date due in Lane Library: 

MccwAcumnf % 





/STANLEY I HALL, Ph.D., LL.D.^ z^^^-'^'^'' 




191 r 

CerTMaMT, 1904, bt 

PttbllfArtf Jfay, 1K.| 

IMttlwl l» Ow I'liltwl Si»t*» «t A&Mrin 





Changes ih the Senses and the Voice i 



NosHAL Adolescence 40 

Adolescent Love 95 


Adolescent Feelings towakd Nature and a New Educaiion in 
Science 144 

Savage Pitbic Initiations, Classical Ideals and Customs, and 


The Adolescent Psychology op Conversion . . . . aSi 

Sooal iNSTiNcrs AND IiraTiTunoNs 363 





Adolescent Gisls and tbeie Education ..... 561 


Ethnic Psychology and Pedagogy, ob Adolescent Races and 

THEIR Treatment 648 

Index of Subjects 749 

Index of Naues 765 



I Toochi CbKngcB in diKrioiiDailrc KniilHlity— ru»^Pr»curc — Minimal coo- 
fact — The tickle »tiwe and it» archaic origin — Uuol naiure of touch — Intoler- 
ance of roit(hBus and deptlalioo— Dcmitil tense — Skin toilets. II. Tule: 
Hunger the other bvi» of geneiic p»ycho1o|>;y— Frcokinefs of api^iitc and iu 
changes fur bo4h Tood and drink at puberty— Nuiri live and pracUckl necd»^ 
PbylogeiMrtic nt|!gc«ion*. III. Smell: llittoriad htnt^— KelMMa (O w » 
Ezperinxnital lesii— New subjective lelations aiid usoeiatioDS— BliithisK ud 
fa ori^m. IV. Hcarin[[ : Ch«nges in nage — DiscrimioatJoo and new interest 
h aoonds in nature or maiic. V, The Voice : Sonnd in the iniKCt and higher 
ratnul worlds Relaliooa to love and war — Mutation in aniniali and men— 
LHfference* betwecti change of voice in girts and boys— -I ndivklaal variations, 
Vl. Sight: Changes in the field of vision — New color sense — Eiperlmenli — 
Optical jad^cDU — New \-iitul tnlcTcsts — Color vDcabnliries. VII. General 
eniring for sense stimuli — The a^ ol Srense — Dangers— Internal senutions. 

Having, in the chapters that precede, considered physical 
growth and tlic mental and moral perversions incident to 
arlolescence, and given an anthology of descriptions of various 
phases of this transitional stage of Hfe as conceived or experi- 
enced by men and women of historic or literary eminence, we 
have, in the chapters that follow, to con.sider its normal genetic 
p."tj'cholog>', bc^nning with sensation and proceeding to feel- 
ings, will, and intellect. The material for what follows is 
newer, more difficult, and more incomplete, but although many 
data are already at hand, there has never been any attempt, 
within my knowledge, to bring them together or to draw the 
sdentific and practical inferences they suggest. Many of the 
si)ecial studies to be considered are based upon too insufficient 
munbers to be more tliaii tentative, but in coordinating their 
results they very commonly shed surprising light upon each 
other, and tlieir themes are often vividly illustrated and con- 



elusions aided by analogies with growth or by the more salient 
facts of mental disease or moral perversion, so that on Ihc 
whole the larger and more important features of this half of 
the picture appear with considerable distinctness. I am well 
aware that so great is the interest and importance of the field, 
and such the momentum of challenging questions that at 
present incite to further research in all parts of this rich domain 
now so promisingly opened, that great additions to our knowl- 
edge in the near future arc inevitable. 

At adolescence, each of the senses undergoes certain char- 
acteristic changes of structure, function, or both. Interests 
change and with them the organs of apperception, so that 
aspects and elements different from those hitherto absorbing 
the complex but already familiar objects of sense become foci 
of attention. While it is of course impossible to distinguish 
clearly between what is due to cerebral or psychic modification 
and that resulting from changes in the sense organs and their 
immediate centers, it is probable that the former greatly pre- 
ponderate, although they can not explain all the facts. One of 
the most important and comprehensive modifications is, that 
whereas most sense stimuli before this age tend strongly to 
provoke reflex reactions, after it these tend to l>e delayed or 
better organized, as if there were a marked increase of associa- 
tive or central functions. Before, the projection system pre- 
d<miinated, and stimuli, suggestion, and afferent gen- 
erally passed more readily over to the eflferent or motor tracts; 
but now we have increased cerebral irradiations, and there is a 
marked advance in the development of the long-circuiting func- 
tions of thought, deliberation, and reflection. This, too, reacts 
upon sense and makes observation better. The deliverances of 
each sense also now begin to have a more independent value of 
their own. Sensations are more objectified and their pleasure 
and their pain effects are more keenly felt. There is a new 
sense esthetic or enjoyment of the sensation itself for its own 
sake. The con^esthcsias, or associations of senses on the basis 
of their organic feelings and tone effects, are now increased. 

T. Touch. — According to Weber, discriminative dermal 
sensibility, measured by the distance of compass-points, de- 
creases with growth. His table is as follows: 


t. Point at the iMigoe 

1. Volar ftitle of Ike finger-tip.. 

3. Red pan ei lips ; voUr tide of Ut« second finfcr joint. 

4. nuk put of the (hitd Anger joint : point of the noM. . 

5. Edge and middle oE back o( tongue ; not red part of 

the lips i rocutorpa* of the thumb 

6. FlsDur tide of the tip of the gre«t lue. 

7. Falmofhiad; cfaech; outer lid 

8. Middle of the hard [Mlatc 

9. Back pMt of the forehead 

la Back pan of the hattd. 

It. GlUMU 

II. Acronioa 

13. Upper and lower part of the under ann 

14. Vpper and lower pari of the under thigh 

IJ. Od the breajtbooe. 

■6. Spine and neck 

17. Spina in the middle of the back 

18, The middle of the upper arm and thigh 

Weber also shows that with the longitudinal growth of the 
lioibs and trunk the sensory circles of childhood grow more 
oblong, their longitudinal increasing more than their trans- 
rerse axes. 

Warro tested the increase of discriminative sensibility in 
eight girls and ten boys. At the first test, the girls were from 
seven to twelve years old and the boys from seven to four- 
teen. The following were his results in millimeters. The 
second test was made ten years later on the same subjects, and 
indicated diminution with advancing age, as follows : * 















II. 3 
















45- > 






67 7 



CifUi.'?*"' »-3S 

)9diesl 1,77 

*''i2dtC« 1.85 




Frtin< of wTUt, 
Ri«ht. Left. 




From this Marro opines that the discriminative sensibility 
of the index-finger of the right hand diminishes from child- 
hood 10 maturity, although this might be due to the induration 
caused by work. He found girls more obtuse in this respect 
than boys, and thought the forehead grew insensitive to com- 

* La PvlbenL Boil, de U Soc. de M^d. Mcni. de Belgiqne, 1894. p. 413. 


pass-points in man, and less so in woman, witli a<Jvanctn^~agie: 
Otherwise, Ixjth he and Lombroso thought touch more acute 
in young- girls than later. This accords with Czcrmak, who 
found the topographic skin sense of children more acute than 
in adults. Since then this has generally been assumed, and 
ascribed to the fact that while the derraal surface increased, 
the number of tactile end organs remained constant. Thus it 
is plain that the most cliaracteristic dianges in dermal sensi- 
bility are not in ftne distance discriminations. This declines 
somewhat with growth, which increases the interval between 
the tactile organs. 

Carman' found that sensibility to pain decreased as age 
increased, except al twelve, witli lioth sexes; that the left 
temple grew more sensitive than the right ; and that girls 
were more sensitive than boys. Gilbert, too. found a gradual 
decrease of pain sensibility to pressure from sixteen to nine- 
teen, boys being less sensitive than girls throughout. Girls 
seemed to have reached the minimum of sensibility at thirteen, 
while for boys the most rapid decline began at that time 
and the difference increased from about 0.4 kg. to more 
than I kg. All these tests, however, have a large mean 
variation. Other algometric tests, although perhaps less care- 
ful than these, have led to somewhat different results. All 
tests, too, leave it undetermined whether it is less sensibility 
or increased power to bear pain that causes the threshold to be 
set higher. In view of the increased hardships, battles, etc., of 
this age, teleological modes of thought might have anticipated 
this general result. It suggests that tenderness now may be 
excessive, and that impact with the world of things must be 
more vigorous to produce the same result. Susceptibility to 
esthetic pain in the higher senses and in the skin itself seems 
to increase, and in the wondrous system of balances and har- 
monies in our nature this may be compensatory. I have some- 
where read statistics showing that of alt wounds leaving per- 
manent scars found on the bodies of adult men, the time ot 
which could be remembered, most were received during pubes- 
cent years. M 

' Pain and ilnogth in«a>u.r«infinU of 1,507 schcMl childreo m Saginaw, Micb 
An. Jour, of Psy., AprO, 1899, vol x, pp. 393-398. 


The skin and the nervous system are both developed from 
the external embryological layer, and all the higher senses arose 
as gradually differentiated and sjiecialized forms of touch, 
which is the mother sense of them all. 'ITie psychic side of 
dennatology is thus the archieological field of the psychologist, 
vhose precept, when ultimate and especially genetic questions 
of sense-perception are discussed, must always be " back to 
touch." somewhat as the philosophical slogan often is " back 
to Kant," " to Plato," " to nature," etc. The various demml 
sensations, the modality of some of which is not yet deter- 
mined, constitute a complex basis for the discussion of the 
problem of reality, because their functions alone can give us the 
prinury qualities of matter. The reason that theories of 
knowledge can not now give us the external world in all its 
full reality is because the latter rested upon touch, and the 
development of the higher senses has thus removed us many 
d^frees from reality. Haptics is thus a paleopsychic field par 
txcdlence, and the exploration of this most extended of all 
senses involves a study of the entire dermal area, which, 
roughly speaking, is the Imundar)' between the somatic ego and 
the non ego. No department of psychology is so attractive and 
so promising to those whose prime interest is in origins. One 
of ray pupils has made an ingenious and very suggestive 
attempt to interpret a good part of the Scotch philosophy of 
comnwn sense, especially as rcpresente<l l)y Keid, Stuart, and 
Brown, as a more or less unconscious effort to base reality 
upon the deliverances of this sense.' 

The pubescent age is marked by a new kind of dermal con- 
sciousness. There are often pimples and eruptions, and when 
these or scabs are formed there is an especially strong desire 
to remove them, and the habit of picking the skin sometimes 
for hours may become almost irresistible. Many returns specify 
a marked pubescent intolerance of the least roughness, a rage 
for picking the face so that scabs can not perform (heir healing 
function and the skin becomes so marred with sores that 
wmetimes permanent discolorations and even scars arc left. 
Occasionally the skin is purposely pricked or abraded witli a 

*Fnier: The PsychologicBl Fouoduioni of Natural Re^itm. Am. Jom. ol 
hjr., vol. rr. pp. 439-4J0. 



pin to create roughness in order to enjoy the exquisite pleasure 
of removing it. Our records show some cases of youths who 
have been fond of dropping tallow from a lighted candle on to 
their hands to have the satisfaction of picking it off later. 
Hang-nails, callosities, blisters, and scabs, sometimes of large 
wounds, are never so intolerable and are impetuously removed 
despite much pain. Some, too, pull out hair from the head, 
eyebrows, lashes, hands, and elsewliere, despite the pain. In 
some cases games of rubbing the skin are noted. Whether 
there is a slight pnuitus or a hunger for some specific dermal 
sensation, like light-hunger for the eye in the blind, or whether 
the skin is sligluly anesthetic and its rights are thus invaded 
to secure the normal quota of stimulus, or there Is a desire to 
satisfy the exquisite sensation of smoothness which, in hand- 
shaking and caressing of lovers, is so important a factor, we 
do not know. Perhaps some or all of these may have been 
elements and played their role in natural selection or even in 
the original dcpilation of the human body, the stroking of 
which is still a source of pleasure. This theme is a very im- 
portant and fascinating one from the standpoint of evolution 
and is akin to the theory of minimal touch excitations, which 
may provoke reactions of almost convulsive intensity. The 
Increase of this form of the tickle sense is another unique fea- 
ture of this stage of life. Especially in states of fatigue and 
reduced control, the reactions are highly dynamogenic and 
the psychopliysic law is in a sense inverted, for there is a point 
below which the slighter the toudi tlie more intense is its result- 
ing sensation. 

Minimal touch excitations suggest, and may thus perhaps 
represent, the very oldest stratum of psychic life in the soul, 
and, if so, have still in their strange sensitiveness and energy 
reminiscences of the primeval vigor and spontaneity of Its 
dawn. Thus keenly perhaps did organisms once feel the world 
about them, and thus intensely did they react to it in that Eocene 
age of the soul before the soma had been mechanized and before 
its vitality had lapsed to a degree of vigor which now separates 
it so far from that of the reproductive elements that it may 
be said to "he a fallen thing and to have brought death into 
the world. However this may be, it is certain that hnptic im- 
pressions are profoundly modified with the dawn of sexual life 

CHakoes in the senses and the voice 


in a way that suggests some mobilization of sensniion con- 
nected with the new sexual functions and their organs.' 

TTius we may infer that along with the increa.sed self-feel- 
ing goes an augmented consciousness of everything that invades 
the contour of the body. As allochiria is diminished and tlic 
prepotency of the right side for muscular activity is known to 
increase at this age, it is not unlikely tha; the left side now ac- 
quires its slight advantage over the right in passive sensibility. 

We have also evidence from returns and from anthropology 
that the secretion of sebum is augmented and thai the skin 
becomes more glossy, an effect which it is often striven to in- 
crease or diminish by various crude cosmetics, and also that 
the secretion of s%veat is more copious. Both these are factors 
in the new sense of cleanliness or unclcanliness which now 

In the middle teens tliere is often an increased general sen- 
ativeness to heat and cold. Boys, and especially girls, are more 
sensitive to chills and prone to protect themselves, c. g., at night, 
by too wami clothing instead of exposing themselves to wind 
and weather, as hardy natures can with such advantage 
fio easily be eticouraged to do. This sensitiveness to external 
change may develop a delicate diathesis and even enervation. 
The optimum of temperature most favorable for ail vital proc- 
esses, and which is instinctively sought by every creature that 
can migrate or even move, seems to have a range which is nar- 
rowed or widened with many corresponding new adjustments 
almost directly according to vigor or the health. Conversely, 
the body is often exposed to wind and sun with great preiiilec- 

Much as we need mare careful age determinations here, 
the practical importance of correct dermal habits at this age 
can not be overestimated. A rugged life with abundant stimu- 
lation of the sense of contact, temperature, and even pain, has 
great prophylactic value in preventing the focaltzation of der- 
mal consciousness (o the sexual parts and functions. Now, 
too. begins a sensitiveness, which is often extreme and per- 
sistent through life, especially in females, to the hand-shaking 

' See my fuller dticiiMifln ol l^is siihjMt : Th« [Hychntogy of Tickling, l^agh* 
hg, tad tbe Cumk. Am. Joof. of Pay., October, 1897, vol. ix, p. 10 rl /ry. 




habit, which often mediates sudden likes and dislikes that are 
as <leep-seatefl and inehictable as those of smell. Many in our 
returns find it hard at this age to shake hands at all, and this 
aversion may cuhninate in settled misophobia, delirium of 
touch, or fear of contact and contamination. A gifted lady 
much t>efore the public writes me: "At receptions, where Ii 
must shake hands with a long- line of people, 1 sometimes take 
one that gives nie a sluidder of repulsion. It is not necessarily 
a moist, cold, clammy, or fish-tail hand, disagreeable as these 
are, and it is not wholly the muscular action. I do not lielieve 
in magnetic qualities, but the feel of some hands touches 
off an idiosyncrasy I felt first in the early teens. Some arc 
pleasant, and this is quite independent of other qualities that 
affect my likes and dislikes. I used to say that however much 
I liked a man I could never marry him if I did not like the 
touch of his hand ; and I feci so yet." 

One of the many problems in this field is that of dermal 
hairs. The current theories of man's anthropoid descent ap- 
pealed to in explaining the loss of the lanugo of the fetus, 
although suggeste<l by, do not so readily explain, the increased 
growth of hair or the imptilse to remove it at puberty. PIoss 
thinks the latter almost universal, and we have perhaps here an 
interesting illustration of the great law, to lie treated elsewhere, 
that organic ftmctions tend to be repeated higher up the phyletic 
scale in the psychic field. Developmental processes, e. g., re- 
moved the lanugo, but now man tends to shave, pull out hairs, 
and othenvise to depilate his bo<ly. This, it has been suggested, 
is the nearly spent momentum that bared the skin of the hair 
of our pithecoid ancestors. .-\s in all other impulses of this 
class, the half-subliminal hair consciousness is pliilophobiac or 
works both in the way of new love and new aversion under the 
influence of the nascent sexual life. On the one hand, we 
have increased love of coiffure, and on the other, we have the 
persistent impulse to shave or ait hair. The newly awakened 
skin consciousness at the same time prompts to undress and 
expose portions of the body in a way hitherto unknown, and 
also to tattoo, wear ornaments, and dress for a new motive. 
The erogenic zones on the breast, back, abdomen, etc.. give a 
new love of caressing, stroking, patting, embracing, clasping 
hands, and kissing, getting into close contact over larger sur* 


faces, with a new sensitiveness to contact along with new con- 
sciousness of arms, ankles, neck, etc. If Lotze's philosopliy of 
clothes, as the physical extensions of the ego into all that in- 
creases height and point of contact through ribbons, canes, higli 
headgear, etc., is true, it all begins at adolescence. Indeed, his 
Dieasured paragraphs on tlie subject are real contributions to 
tlie new [nlpation consciousness uf tbis age also expressed in 
blustiing. and, in a very different way, in the ancient Roman, 
Turkish, and Oriental passion for baths, unguents, and skin 
toilet generally, which may develop into luxurj- and effemini- 
ration. We know that pigmentation is greatly increased at 
this age ; an<t there is much indication that not only the tickle 
sensibility to minimal contacts, but also the range of discrim- 
malion for pressures, is augmented. 

II. Taste. — The true beginning for a psychology essen- 
tially genetic is hunger, tlie first sentient expression of the will 
to live, which with love, its other fundamental quality, rwlcs the 
world of life. The more we know of the body, the more clearly 
we sec thai not only growth but every function has a trophic 
tadcgTOund ; that through all tlie complex chemical bookkeeping 
of income and expenditure, every organ is in a sense a diges- 
tive organ ; that the body is a machine for the conservation, 
distribution, and transmission of energy ; and that man is, phys- 
ically considered, what he cats and what he does with it. or, 
belter, what he completely digests. Food is the first object of 
desire, and all fins. legs, wings, and tails were developed either 
lo get food or to escape finding a grave in some other crea- 
ture's stomach. It is as if the lower forms of life said to them- 
selves, " My world is my food." because there is less interest in 
an>thing else. They hibernate, hestivate, or migrate accord- 
ing to the food supply. Low forms of life that cease to he 
sessile do so to get food, which is the chief end of the world- 
wjije stntggle for survival, where tlie law. Eat or be eaten, is 
imperative, Scmie two-thirds or more of all the kinetic energy 
of the human body goes to digestion. Food is one of the first 
forms of property, and almost everything is food for some 
creature. In the slow processes of cephalization by which the 
brain and centers develop near the mouth end of the alimentary 
canal, the first laugh, if Spencer is right, was in prospect of 



food, and says^ wlien interpreted phyletically. " Tliis is gwxl 
enough to eat." The great epoch marked by the descent of 
fire and cooking not only economized digestion and freed its 
energy for higher uses, but evolved liearlh, home, and meal- 
times. From the standpoint of the liiglier metabolism, every 
cell and tissue has its own specific hunger, and what we call 
appetite is a symphony of many parts or a net algebraic result 
aggregated from the specified hunger of all the tissues and 
cells. There is a struggle for survival between the different 
organs of the same soma for the food supply which the blood 
contains, and sensation, and perhaps thought, arc in one sense 
functions of nutrition. If the parts and molecules latest to de- 
velop and most dislinclively human, being more complex than 
others, and Iwing those which from their extreme instability 
are most labile, are broken down in the function of thought and 
feeling, we can well understand that ibe nervous system, which 
is the master tissue of the body, may be the seal of the highest 
complexity, where matter is most nearly transubstantiated into 
soul. Pleasure and pain arc closely hnked with satiety and 
hunger. Happiness or euphoria, which nearly every form of 
greeting in the world first inquires for when friends meet, on 
the one hand, and disease, the chief fear of man. which brings 
functions to consciousness that should remain submerged, mor- 
liidifies visceral sensations into hypochondria and darkens into 
melancholia with forced feeding, on live other, arc the extremes 
between which every normal and happy life unfolds. Sleep 
builds up brain cells, and in anemia we live on a lower nutri- 
tive level. If the products of decomposition or the clinkers in 
the furnace of life are not removed, one organ's food may be 
another's poison, and there is aulo-inloxication and fungoid 
growth, and as the biproducts accumulate and the chip pile of 
dead matter increases there is progressive liability to infection 
by micro-organisms. In a sense every disease is due to cell 
hunger, and old age and death are progressive starvation. 
Most of the diseases of middle and later life are probably due 
to avoidable errors of diet. As we go up tiiis scale of complete 
and high-level nulritiou, there is growth. — physical, mental, or 
both, — the pleasure field widens, and the maximum of utilizetl 
food is attained. To feed well ciuses lower organisms to pass 
rapidly and surely over the stages of growth, while insufficient 




nourtshniciit causes arrest, whether in larva or child. A w«Il- 
balancet] dietary is especially necessary at adulescencc. when 
the range of appetite nurnially enlarges and creatures pre- 
viously monophagous liecome jHiIyphaguus, and it is hard to 
adopt new kinds of food after the close of this period. Bad 
eating habits, cither in quality or quantity, are at the bottom 
of most breakdowns in student life, and otie of the chief causes 
of intemperance. Thus every part of the body is constantly 
undergoing chemico-vital changes, and in the extracts of the 
six pounds of food and drink, which an adult working man 
consumes daily, and which are poured through the thoracic 
duct into the blood, every organ which is irrigated should find 
and lie able to extract the nutriment it needs. 

At the very dawn of puberty there is n marked change 
in the amount of food required which does not vary directly 
with the rate of growth or even exercise ; but there are many 
facts which suggest some unknown cause or process, as if the 
catabolic changes were modified some months before the btidy 
begins permanent augmentation. There is generally a new 
relation to f(x>d. .'Vppetite is often freaky, irregular, capricious, 
"-ecking a new ttjuilihrium and lar^r variety, and the relation 
among the staple foods finally settled on almost always changes. 
Sometimes food that is too highly seasoned or too hot, or that 
in which desserts predominate and overload a sluggish stomach, 
and perhaps those which have aphrodisiac action, as Marro 
thinks the case with legumes of the garlic class, or tea. coffee, 
wine, beer, alkaline or acid drinks, may be almost passionately 
desired. Indeed, the instability of appetite in both sexes often 
soggcsts that of pregnancy. The sense of taste becomes in 
some degree independent and desires stimulants, condiments, 
and sometimes intoxicants. The rhythm of meal-finies often 
tends to break up as if by a new wave of inflnences from the 
irr^ularities of the savage life of our forebears. In nervous 
temperaments, especially, food is Ijolted and brenkfast slighted, 
and lo\'e of occasional excessive gorging on edibles not hitherto 
staple, alternates with indifference to or criticism of the family 

When we pass to detail, the data are not entirely har- 
raonious. It is now generally held that while the amount of 
both solid matter and water taken into the body increases 



great]}', indeed, nearly doubles from the age of nine to maturity, 
Uxh steadily decline per kg. of body weight — solids from 14.4 
to fj.t and water from 60 to 44-8.' Other later data seem to 
indicate that while the albuminoids and carbohydrates are not 
greatly changed in relative amount, there is some decrease tn 
the relative proportion of fat and an increase in the sugar in- 
gredients of food. Camerer constructed with great labor the 
following table showing the changes in the quality and quantity 
of Ujfxl from the ages of eleven to eighteen : 


AvnmK wrighl, kg 

r'AMi ('»!, kg. 












1 733 










a- 378 












Taste is a chemical sense which seems often to improve 
through life and sometimes to develop to an exquisite degree of 
ReriHibility in old age. It is the doorkeeper at the entrance to 
the alimentary canal, and the human face, including nose and 
cycH, which are primarily food-finders, and the jaws, which are 
triturators, have developed as accessories. All the higher meta- 
iKjlism (Iq)cnds ujxjn keeping the appetite true to the needs of 
the lj<;dy, like a sfjmatic conscience always pointing steadfastly 
Ujward the undiscovered poles, the one of nutritive need and 
the father of Iiuman destiny. Taste is perhaps even harder to 
explfjre by experimental methods than smell, and no good 
lalK^ratory age tests are available. Whether the special organs 
of taste on the tongue or the gustatory surface is modified at 
adolescence in either extent, discriminative sensibility, thresh- 
old value, or reiction time, we have no demonstrable knowl- 
edge. I'Vfim Horn's experiments with eighty-eight tolerably 
pure substances down to the latest explorations of this sense, 
we do not fincl one thorough and valid test for even the chief 
stages of life. 

We have, however, a large body of questionnaire returns 

■ Vierordt : Dftten und Tabellen, p. 214. 





which suggest with more or less prolrability that the following 
moditications are hkely to occur : first, there is a change oi 
appetite, often very marked at this age. or a psychic transvalu- 
ation of tastes. Milk, often taken copiously and with zest be- 
fore, now becomes unpleasant, and the proportion of solid food 
desired increases. We know that the jaw-bone grows strong, 
the chin prominent, and the muscles of mastication increase, 
causing a general modification of the aspect of the face. Con- 
nected with this, perhaps, is the propensity to chew and to cat 
substances that require stronger action of the jaw. The very 
prevalent gum-chewing habit, which culminates now, is another 
expression of this age. But, on the other hand, there is often 
a new tendency to bolt food unchewcd, due perhaps to more 
impetuosity of appetite or the increased nerve tension, and tem- 
porary loss of the poise that good table manners suggest in 
this respect. Nearly all who have answered the question, report 
that at this age many foods seem to taste differently. Many 
ttow incline to more, and others to less, vegetable food than be- 
fore. Animal food is almost always more, but sometimes less, 
in demand tlian Ijefore, and there is nearly always a change 
in this respect. While the taste for sweets is sometimes dimin- 
ished, it is often increased, but the propensity for mild acids 
is greatly augmented, and still more so that for sodas or alka- 
lies. The propensity' for bitter tastes undergoes also a distinct 
increase. All this indicates that the range of likes is normally 

Mr. Bell found a desire to taste everything that could 
be carried to the mouth regardless of its edible qualities — 
grass, plants, soap, worms, bugs, ink, — one hundred and ciglity 
difTerent objects being enumerated ; but this desire was al- 
ready declining at the age of four or five. Later, he thought, 
came a propensity to make and taste unusual mi.xtures of food 
and drink, or to taste foods in their stages nf preparation — one 
hundred and twenty articles being enumerated — culminating 
between seven and ten. .^doIescent curiosity vents itself on 
new articles in a bill of fare, new flavors, etc. During nr often 
before this transition stage there is a period of unsettlement, 
fluctuation, and freakiness. New flavors or savors are craved; 
Acre are appetites unknown before, and old foods, formerly 
fzvorites, now become iiidilTerem, There is a lickerish dainti- 



ness. and it would seem that this upsetting often coincides with 
a new love of spices, condiments, or very strong stimuli which 
sometimes incline to the various toxic habits. It is as if taste 
now had a somewhat more independent x-alue in itself, became 
more inward and more associated with the Oemeingefuhie on 
the one hand, and more objectified on the other. 

Another of the most marked tendencies of this age is that 
to r^ulate appetite by psychic motives. New tastes for objects 
at first unpleasant are often jjcrsistently cultivated, perhaps for 
social or very often for reasons thought to be scientific. Various 
foods or drinks are aflfected, because they are more associated 
with adult habits ; the stern dietary of the training table is per- 
haps imitated, and instinctive likes and dislikes are braved and 
bullied according to some preconceived sclieme. Semper and 
others have brought forward evidence that in animals this is a 
plastic period when many become more polyphagous, e. g., that 
bears may Icam to cat oats, and horses to even eat hens, and 
they have shown haw difiicult it is to adopt new food after 
sexual maturity. 

Ail this shows the extreme hygienic necessity at this sts^e 
that eating Iiabits should receive special attention, and that 
all picje and sfjecial likes and aversions which interfere with a 
well-balanced and comprehensive dietary should be avoided, 
if youth is to utilize the full impulsion of this period which the 
human as well as the insect larva needs to bring it out to the 
imago stage of full maturity. All suggests that excessive tea- 
ism, coffccism, etc., predilection for tidbits, condiments, and 
desserts, to the prejudice of appetite for plain, wholesome nu- 
tritives, and all the special dislikes for standard foods now so 
common, if not themselves signs of arrest, at least jeopard the 
highest maturation of powers. 

Impatient as adults often are at the eccentricities of juve- 
nile ap^iclites and the proneness to Itine-irrcgularities in both 
sexes, Uiese probably liave their justification within limits. This 
is the age when at early tropical majority youth in primitive 
society cut loose from parental aid in procuring food supply 
and set up for themselves in new environments. l>efore they 
were fully skilled in the arts Ixith of providing and preparing 
food, and so at a time when the irregularities always found in 
savage life were increased. Probably seasonal variations due 




to changes from scantiness and abundance will Iw made out 
when the (acts are all in, and these will no doubt be found in 
kind as well as in amount of food. No creature ever began to 
have such a wide variety and range of dietary as man, for, 
while his teeth and digestive organs arc about as well adapted 
to fungivorous as to carnivorous habits, commerce now enables 
him to command the products of every clime and to insure con- 
stancy and abundance in advance with no direct effort, and this 
is a transforming and comparatively recent condition. Many 
tribes, like many animals, are stilt fat and sleek in the fall and 
lean in the spring, and alternate at every season between feast- 
ing, jioihicking, and famine or incipient starvation. In some 
animals, and among some northern tribes which stilt show a 
marked breeding season, this is attended by greatly reduced 
appetites and by maceration. Prolonged periods of exception- 
ally sustained activity are often concomitant with reduced eat- 
ing, commonly and perhaps primarily the cause, but sometimes, 
and it may be secondarily, the effect of unwonted effort. Thus 
the phyletic presumption is that traces of these racial cxpcri- 
ences should be more or less faintly rehearsed at this period. 
If so. this is the way of nature and should be frankly rcc<^- 
nized. Happy the youth who comes up to full maturity un- 
stuntcd by perversions, excess or defect, and with tnie, trust- 
worthy appetite and regular eating habits. Probably no period 
and no condition of life suffers reduced vitality and efficiency 
from errors in diet so much as brain- working and sedentary 
youth, despite the fact that none can letter sustain such errors, 
so far as life and tolerable health are concerned. 

III. Smell. — The sense of smell in adult man is about as 
undeveloped as was the color sense in the remote and some- 
what conjectural age, which Magnus describes for the chro- 
matic sense when colors had no indepemlent names, but were 
designated by those of objects represent ivcly colored. It is sliU 
hard to distinguish gustatory, olfactory, and often the tactile 
elements " in all the smells of earth's great kitclicn." li. Clo- 
f|uet's * mystic and almost poetic interpretation of olfaction as 
presiding over man's relation to everything vajwrized or vola- 
tile; his view that odors make the birds sing, or rather, as he 

lO^hrciiologic. Fui«, l8ai, p. 75&. 



thought, laugh, and are the chief !ink between the flora and the 
fauna ; that those w1k> eat and drink least best understand and 
appreciate tliis highly spiritual sense; that odors were long 
man's chief duty to the gods, who were Icnown by their ambro- 
sial aura; that the world of smells is that of Democritus and 
brings man into rapport with cosmic emanations ; that Moham- 
med was right when he called odors one of tlie two chief joys of 
life, which had their own mystic language; that in India, titles 
and degrees of distinction are designated by odors: that fumi- 
gation keeps off evil spirits; that man prays to Heaven with 
incense; that perfumes compel the good-will of those about us; 
that they arc caniiinative and generally medicinal; that the 
clatrol facta nt or hypcroamic soul perceives more than the clair- 
audient or clairvoyant, and the implication that tf we ever fully 
know the higher osmograms of aphrodisiacs and the aura setiti- 
nalis, love itself may be raised to a higher level — of all this wc 
can pcrhnps only say, Pcrictihun est credere aul uon credere. 

Olfactory sensations are phylogenetieally among the first 
to associate themselves witli sex, and are perhaps the first to 
be differentiated from general sensibility. This stage is still 
seen in reptiles and amphibians whose cortex is chiefly olfac- 
tory. In the infant, smell is one of the earliest senses, and 
Soury says thought begins in it.* Although in man. its original 
role of conserving the individual in helping him to Tind food 
and to avoid enemies is slight, it still has very close association 
with the reproductive function. Althaus long ago urged that 
tlie primary function of the olfactory sense was to facilitate 
reproduction, and cited many cases of animals detecting the 
female in mt at great distance. Schiff performetl the crucial 
experiment of extirpating the olfactory- centers in young dogs, 
and found that when they had grown to maturity they did not 
distinguish sex. The odor of the body, and especially of parts 
of it, whicli Jaeger thinks to be the essence of the soul, is often 
a very powerful aphrodisiac Mantegazza tells of a lady who 
look such great pleasure in smelling a flower that it seemed to 
her like a sin. Fere, quoted by Koux, tells of a young niau who 
sneezed whenever he had an erotic thought, and many facts 
show a very close sympathy in both health and disease between 


the pUuilary surface of tlie nose ami sex. Marro found that 
llie sense of smeU was niost exquisitely developed in girls at 
!be commencement of pul>crly. An old saw has it that when 
young people have the nosebleed they are in love. Hemor- 
rhage? from the nose arc quite common in puberty and adoles- 
cence.* Tlie closeness of tliis relation appears from the fact 
that congesticm of the turbinated bodies is common during 
menstrual ion, when it may embarrass nasal respiration, cause 
headacheSf and even act vicariously for the normal discharges. 
Sneezing sometimes accompanies sexual excitement, and nasal 
catirrh and the fetor of ozena are more pronounced. Often 
after the meno]):iusc, atrophic rhinitis is found. The pain of 
dysmenorrhea is often relieved Iiy applying cocaine to the so- 
called genital spots or the erectile tissue over the tnrhinal and 
septimi. This relation is often seen In the fact that castration 
of yoimg animals interferes with the development of this tissue. 
So far, no thorongli and adcriunte laborator\* tests of the 
de\eIopment of smell during the different stages of life have 
been made, unless we except those of Marro, who attempted 
to measure the acutcncss of smell witli Zwardcmakcr's olfac- 
tometer, by the maximum distance at which odors could be per- 
ceived when a uniform surface and intensity of olfactory sub- 
stance were exposed, with the following results in millimeters: 

SwAC or LiccwcK. CAottcifovc. Vanilla. McMt. 

Right. Left. RifliL Left. Right. Left. 

Vedar foafiMn— 39 cu««. 
39.29 a6.8t tt.31 to.9S 4.39 4.15 

F»a fcortMB M «i|liMiB~i5 mm. 
»S53 1993 770 7-46 6.13 5,48 

Uviv «i(htMa — I] <«tM. 
ia.44 '7 "^ »3 4' "-33 4-07 3-30 

Uniln foarttaa — ij uml 
34.96 ao.83 U.79 15-0 70 585 

fwom fuuriatfi ui*i|[liiB«i — 10 cat**. 
38.23 27-0 13,0s 13-18 S.83 4.80 

Over •i|[hl»«n— j rata*. 
[Q.30 17.80 8.3; 8.35 7.50 7.0 

'The RcUlion ol the Nose lo the Kcprodnctive Organc. By C. N, Coi> 
Btwiklyn Me*i, Jour., Jdy, 1901. 



Besides these somewhat inconclusive lests, Marro repeated them 
on hnys and girls in piihlic tnAlitulinns, taking note in each case 
whether each was pubescent. Although he used so few substances that 
for this r«a5ot) alone his conclusions seem less broadly based than we 
cnultl wish, we havcpcrhapK nci hcltcr inference than his, which is, in 
fine, that women have more olfactory sensibility than men, and that 
there is an augmentation in girls at puberty. This seems especially 
pronounced for musk, a strong sex perfume. From fourteen to eight- 
een many girls, it would 3|)|>ear. arc slightly osniosmic for vanilla, 
caoulchoiic, and licorice, their olfactory perceptions being more acute 
both before and after these years. Boys from fourteen to eighteen 
were more sensitive for each substance except musk than citlicr before 
or after. 

We have, however, a less controlled source of inference in 
questionnaire returns, which indicate with considerable cer- 
tainty the fo]Iowi;ig results; First, the perfumes of flowers 
attract more attention, give more pleasure, and are more 
finely discriminated near the dawn of adolescence than before. 
Sometimes this is described as the opening of a new olfactory 
world. Fragrance becomes hencefortli, and especially to young 
women, a source of exquisite delight, and somelimes sym- 
phonies of their perfumes are described as if tlie tone color of 
this sense now became cajrabEe oE producing a higher degree 
of esthetic enjoyment than any other. The interest in flowers 
is, of course, manifold, but there is reason to think that at no 
stage of life does it depend more upon pure olfaction. 
Secondly, most returns specify an increased interest in per- 
fumes and aromata generally. The immense role these have 
had in worship and in the development of religious feelings Is 
well seen in Sigismund,' who gives a scholarly history of their 
commercial, religious, and cosmetic tises. The adolescent soul 
rises more easily with fumigation and incense than is possible 
later in life. Returns show that now girls love tlie perfumes 
for hair, breath, gamients. writing paper, soaps, smelling bot- 
tles and sacliel, and that there is -the widest range of individual 
differences b(Jlh in acuteness and obtuseness of olfactory sensi- 
bility and in personal preferences and aversions. The psychol- 
ogy of this sense, too, shows that its associations are strong, 
but very deep and often subconscious. It is at this period of 

* Die AromaU. Leipzig, 1884. 




life that these potentialities by which incense may suggest all 
The relignotis emotions, the odor of the flower recall images of 
sunny meadows, varnish a funeral, the undescribable ship smell 
a voyage by sea and even nausea, new-tnown hay a mass of 
dim hacstevic sensalions, are most i:unierous and active and 
have greatest power to modify senlinienls and enhance sug- 
gestibility. Thirdly, body odors,' while they do not reach their 
maximal intensity, now rise suddenly to far greater dominance. 
The more rapid metabohsm increases them, as sweat now be- 
comes more copious, as well as of different composition and 
smell, with sex differentiations in quality, and somatic exhala- 
tions are more keenly setised. Rad breath, now for the first 
time, has great power to blight frien<lships ; the aroma of dis- 
ease or anything suggesting the intestinal tract, and sweatiness 
or anything that savors of unclcanline^sof pcfson or toilet, now 
becomes an important social factor. Real and sometimes fanci- 
ful offensive personal exhalations now may become insupport- 
able, and many arc especially sensitized even to defective 
ventilation. Indeed, wc must admit that fantastic as was 
Ja^rer's identification of the soul with a smell, personal odors, 
.sometimes both consciously and unconsciously at this age, af- 
fect likes and dislikes. Finally, wc must reserve a place conjec- 
turally for sex o<lors. which wc know become effective with ani- 
mals at this period of life, and this very probably may have an 
importance for youth hitherto unsuspected and at present en- 
tirely undenK>nstrabIe. If we add to all these the flavors and 
savors which link taste and smell, and lake account of intoxi- 
cants, tobacco, etc.. wc are again on the old solid ground of 
statistics, because both these habits, as shown in Chapter V, 
arc especially prone to arise at this period of inception. 

Young children seem on the whole rather insensitive to 
smell, which is currently assumed to be a decadent sense in 
man. But there is now a period of recrudescence, not so much 
for any discriminative or noetic value, as for a rather pure 
sense feeling with a marked emotional lone, as if these sensa- 
tions themselves were now appreciated for their own sake; as 
if the scale of pleasure and pain, up and down which they are 
distributed, was magnified ; and as if the impressions which 

1 Mooin : Let Odtors dn Corps HtunMoe. Paris, |S66. 



these nerves tncdiate now came to a hig-her psychic valuation. 
Just possibly, tfjo, the devclopnieiit of the organ at this stage 
causes a characteristic modificiition in the direction of ihe air 
current in the nostrils, which E. l*aulsen has shown to be so 
important. In some of our cases, the exquisiteness of this sense 
in adolescence becomes remarkable. Julia Rracc was at this age 
when she best discriminated the washed clothes of each initiate 
of the Hartford Asylum for the Blind. The recognition of per- 
sons and even objects by the emanations that appeal to the nose, 
which seems so incredible in the literature of hysterical distem- 
pers, is possible at this period if ever ; and the sonittiTites almost 
convulsive intensity of nialudoruus sensations also belungs here. . 
On tlie whole there can be no doubt that when laboratory tests 
have explored the g;irnut of nature's odors for each period of 
life, it will be found that closely bound up with the development 
of sex in man goes a great exaltation and enlargement of this 
spiritualiz;ition of taste, which is related to it in somewhat the 
same anticipator}' way that sipht is related to touch. 

Blushing is another dermp.I function which undergoes dis- 
tinct augmentation at adolescence, sug-ge^ting a new or closer 
rapport between the skin and the mind. Its close connection 
with the sense of shame has suggested- to some that it is an 
organic relict of an ancestral sex fear, especially in young 
women, in whom it is most developed. It may once have ex- 
tended over a larger portion of the body, and be " an atavistic 
trace of a more widely diffused sex erethism." * There is little 
uniformity in blushing. It may begin in a small or in a large 
spot, or may mottle a considerable surface and then spread up 
and down or around. Sometimes tt acquires nior!)id intensity 
an<l is accompanied by tremors, pressure, giddiness, mental con- 
fusion, etc. Subjecti\ely it giws with consciousness of self, or 
of the surface of the body. It is a great lieigliteiier of beauty, 
and natural selection may have much influence upon its devel- 
opment. Campbell ascril>es it to shyness, and Meltnard to the 
desire for concealment. The skin now becomes an organ of 
the mind in a new sense and reflects its inner movements in 
ways and degrees often verj* embarrassing. Not unconnected 
with this is the new sense of consciousness of complexion. 


There is no bcaiitificr tliat compares with arterial blood, and the 
increased vascularity and erethism of the human skin at this 
3ge, although not without analogues in the animal world, has 
been a theme of much literature and poetr\-, while the absence 
of it inclines to cosmetic arts. There are indications that pallor 
of the skin, and especially the face, occurs more often at adoles- 
cence, partly as a normal reaction to blushing, and partly be- 
cause of the increased responsiveness of tlie skin to states of 
mind c^posile to those which cause blushing. So. too, chronic 
&tshes and coldness and clamminess of parts of the dermal sur- 
Cace arc more frequent and extreme. 

IV, Hearing. — The car is closely connected with the senti- 
ments, and there is a general truth in the trite saying that music 
is the language of the feelings as speech is that of the intellect. 
There is reason to believe that young children hear higher 
tones than adults, and also that there is a pubescent stage in 
which the vocabulary does not grow as rapidly as Iwfore and 
after, but when unwonted intensity of expression is vented 
upon a few words and phrases which even the ear loves. One 
of the characteristics of slang, of which this is the culminating 
period, is that a few words do duty for a whole genus of psychic 
processes, so that verbalization. like .Tppetite. is now peculiarly 
prone to ruttincss. This gullying intensity is perhaps cognate 
with that to yell and vent the new tendency to phonation in 
articulate and sometimes animal noises, not perhaps so much 
to gratify any car hunger as to relieve efferent tension. Pro- 
clivity to car-mindcdncss becomes more pronounced, and there 
is a ne^v responsiveness of soul to accents, iiiUccliotis, timbre, 
and cadences, or to speech music, which sometimes comes to 
have an independent value, and even where it dues not rise to 
consciousness, has a sudden rcenforccmcni. 

Many of the emotions can almost he said to be born now, 
and periiaps all are intensified, so that the emotional life is far 
wider, more diversified, and dee|>er. Tone color is felt; pre- 
cision in articulation and pronunciation, though not often at- 
tained and very often actually diminished, is now felt in a new 
way. Friendships are affected by the quality of the voice, and 
the tales of sentimental maidens who fall in love with the voices 
of people tlicy have never seen, are true noWj if ever. As the 



voice increases in range, perhaps it is not impossible that tlic 
scale of audibility falls slightly after this age and that some 
higher notes are lost to audition and lower ones gained, or at 
any rate are appreciated, after the traffic of language, spoken 
and heard, has sunk lo a lower key. 

Dr. J. O. Rcik,' liowever, is inclined to tln'nk that the power 
of hearing the highest musical notes varies with age, perhaps 
Iwing greatest in the early teens, the limit of perception declin- 
ing with age. This was first snggestc<_l by Dr. Clarence Blake.* 
There is some reason to think, too, that there is for a short time 
hyperacuity of hearing and also of seeing at about this age. 
Dr. Reik also thinks that the auricle gradually increases both 
in length and width to at least the age of twenty and perhaps 
later, although its most rapid growth is in the early years and 
the annual increase is slight after fourteen. Where there is a 
difference between the two ears, the right is usually the larger. 

Again the sounds in nature reverberate more deeply in 
the soul. The running brook, the waving trees and grass, the 
rijjple of Ihe sea, tlie song of birds, the noises of the tempest, 
now come nearer to the .snul and seem tn take on a more human 
quality. These, too, often become independent objects of at- 
tention and speak a language to the htert: now stillness itsell 
may just Iwcomc a sensrilion. Once more the range or hori- 
zon of auditory consciousness is rather suddenly enlarged. A 
series of tones, noises, and especially words, is grasped into a 
unity, not by association and not perhaps Iwcause the after- 
image of the first member of a series lingers longer to sense, 
but rather because the range of the mind is more extended, and 
the synthetic power which welds many elements into unity is 
strengthened. Simple rhythm and rime arc appreciated long 
before, but now declamatory or stylistic prose becomes musical 
and is cadenced into wholes, as if a new sentence sense was 
developed. The swing and lilt of longer lines and more com- 
plex forms of verse in pKwtry are apprecialetl. So is harmony, 
while the power to apprehend all the factors of intricate musi- 
cal accompaniments and compositions of many parts now first 

' Keport on ihe Kxftmin niton of the Ear* of 440 Sdtool ChQdrcn. 
IIopkiD:t tlospila] null., December, 1900, p. 318, 
•Trww. Am. Otol Soc., 1872. 




appeals to the soul. Music, which may have been cultivated 
much before, now comes to mean unutterable things and ac- 
quires a new interest. Very often discords too become painful 
to an unwonted degree, and if war, love, and religion be the 
three factors that have cadenced the soul to the rliylhm out o£ 
which music was born, this is what we should expect at this 
age. when the instincts which underlie all three are so greatly 
rcenforced. Most of these new manifestations are transient in 
those who do not de\eiop great musical power, but even in 
these they arc often well unfolded for a time. 

Of 556 young people, Lancaster found that 464 had an in- 
creased love of music, often amounting to a passion, which, how- 
ever, soon passed. The curve of this love culminates at fifteen 
and declines rapidly after sixteen. In many cases " everj'tliing 
is given up to music for a year or two, and then it is dropped." 
Some imagine themselves great musicians and sec audiences 
spellbound and applauding with waving handkerchiefs. Some 
purchase instruments and take lessons with enthusiasm for a 
while, but llic spell soon passes. Young children who have 
been made painfully nervous by music, arc now filled with 
rapture by it, and are sometimes easily and deeply moved to 
tears. There is a ncu^ love of rhytlun and of melody, a high 
sense of the possibilities of music as a means of expression, 
delight in opera, etc. 

Music is more closely connected with pure sensation than 
any other art. Hearing plays a far more important part in 
musical esthetics than even the theory of perspective does in 
painting. It does not necessarily and directly excite images like 
poetry, or give pleasure in form like painting and statuary, 
although it is far more than " a psychic process collected from 
immediate sensation."* In its origin it is closely connected with 
the dance, which has been called mute poetry. Sometimes 
music, hut far more often words, come first, inslrumtntal or 
"absolute music" arising late. It is hard to combine its 
esthetic, psychical, and physiological aspects in one inclusive 
theory, but perhaps Billroth is right that the amount of harsh- 
ness a hearer endures or loves is a matter of taste and habit. 

*^e Billrotb: Wrr iM Mtuikmliich ? odctpf/cho.phjriiolo^iche Aphoriuneii 
Bbn die MumIc. Vicana, 1901. 




so that the Ixjimdary between harmony nn<l <liscord has often 
changed. So tone scales most, and hannonious interweaving 
next, do not rest upon fixed laws of nature, but upon esthetic 
principles which arc subject to change and will continue to de- 
velop still more in the future. Of its many factors the rh)'tlini- 
sense is far most common, Only two per cent of the Austrian 
recruits can not learii to march rhythmically and so have to 
be transferred to lUe cavalry. Among children in this country 
this proportion is far greater.' The clog and jig dancing in- 
stinct is strongest and must often manifesteil at the dawn of 
puberty, as is the love of dancing generally. In 45 cases of 
enthusiasm in playing the banju or drum, " the interest was 
awakened in every instance in the period of early adolescence, 
between the ages of thirteen and sevenleen." This is usually 
the case, according to Sears, with interest in playing other 
musical instruments. He also fnnn<l that of 356 cases report- 
ing increased interest in music, the average age in girls was 
twelve and in bnys thirteen, and also that " a special interest 
in dancing is likely to arise when the child is thirteen or four- 
teen," a little later in boys than in girls. Sometimes there is 
a sudden and re\'ohitionary change from strong dislike to 
passionate and consuming love, and many devote themselves 
to a musical career for a time during adolescence. This calen- 
ture of enthusiasm may for years even in those slightly 
gifted. No genius is more precocious than that for music, 
and with talent, progress during the early teens is often pro- 
digious. For the average youth there is probably no such 
agent of educating the heart to love of Clod, home, nature, 
country, and of cadencing the whole emotional nature, and 
hence there is no aspect of our educational life more sad than 
tlie neglect or perversion of musical training from this, its 
supreme end. 

V. The Voice. — Here best vvc may consider the voice, 
which, as the facts of deaf-nuitism show, is developed under 
the tutelage of the ear. Tlie first sounds in the insect world 
seem to be sexual, for Ihey are made only liy the male an<l only 

' Stndlts in Rhythm, hy CharUs H. Sun. Pad. Sent.. Much, 1901. eip» 
cially p. \^//Uff. 




3t sexual maturity. Stridulation, which may have developed 
from the rattling of the parts of a horny sheath caused by 
tocomotton, is made in many ways, but always by rubbing 
serrated or pectinated e<lges. whether of wings, thighs, or body, 
which perhaps fiddle on each other alternately. Some cicad* 
can be heard a mile, and were kept in cages for their song by 
the Greeks and Chinese. OUier insects approximate a true 
voice by sexual calls made by forcing air through their spira- 
cles with abdomens distended as resonators, so that more than 
baJf the body is a musical instrument. The note of these in- 
struments, like that of bees in humming, is modified by excite- 
ment, and often seems lo express feeling. Some think the 
noise of the death-tick a sexual call. Some fish make noises 
audible for many fathoms, and male frogs chirp and croak in 
the spring. Most clucks, chirps, crowing, and whistling, as 
well as songs, arc commonly love calls. A former test of a 
good bird singer. Darwin tells us, was to see if it will continue 
to sing while the cage is swung around the owner's head, and 
birds matched in rivalry will sometimes sing for hours till one 
drops exhausted or dead. A canary sang continuously for four- 
teen hours. The best singers are conmionly not brilliant in 
hue, but charm with their voice. If song is not confined to 
(he breeding season, the very voice often changes then. Drxmi- 
ining. rattling quills, the whirring of the birds made by feathers 
especially shaped to cut the air, as they plunge or turn iu it, 
like most noises in the insect world which is so similar to that 
of birds, primarily serve the reproductive function. The larynx 
of some animals enlarges during rut, and others are mute save 
in the breeding season. Tlie voice is often to strike terror be- 
fore battle or in challenge. Some monkeys make the woods 
vocal in the spring. Darwin holds that music, instead of origi- 
nating in speech cadences, as Spencer thinks, sprung from and 
is reminiscent of the psychoses of old courtships of a long- 
past age. However this may be, sound in both the animal and 
human world is a potent agent of love. The song of crickets, 
birds, and the pleasure of the other sex in hearing it, suggests 
to Weismami tliat not only the voice but other kinds of musical 
organs liavc a sexual origin as niefbalions of selection. 
Wjietlier we hold with Darwin that song was developed by 
sexual selection and language was evolved from it, or with 



Spencer, Schweibe, ami others, that speech was primary, or 
even with Weismann that the musical sense has no necessary 
relation to sexual life, but was a complementary product of 
the organ of audition, we know that timbre alone has great 
power in arousing or arresting sexual feeling ami that music 
and love are closely associated. Tissot ' thinks birds have a 
change of voice yearly, and that its relative loss in many 
species out of the brccfling seastm is a disease. This has been 
noted in canaries and otlitr captive birds, and especially when 
molting. Other animals show similar phenomena in the 
season of molting and shedding llie coat. 

It is impossible to glance at the later theories concerning the origin 
of speech and the recent studies of vocalizaiioii among atiimals without 
being convinced that, of all the many factors involved in this veiy 
(:om[flcx theme, sex has played a far more important role than has 
even yet been rccognizciJ. Its prufuuttd mudificaiiun by castration, 
and by abnormalities of the vita sfsrualis, the change of voice that 
accompanies puberty and its modification at senescence, the volumi- 
nousness of song and sex-calls among animals in the breeding season, 
all suggest that uhile it is as yet by no means proven that voice orlg* 
tnatcd as a sex charm, this factor has nevertheless had immense influ- 
ence in its development. During menstruation it is often less brilliant, 
thin, and more prone to he flat in singers, and is often sharp in states 
of dysmcnorrhcea. The pubertal change is almost as much less marked 
in the female as the mammary change is in the male. Dcforc this 
period the larynx of the sexes differs but little, and from three to eleven 
the change in both sexes is slight. Puberty, however, brings a Mtdden 
enlargement of the glottis, which in the male nearly doubles its propor- 
tions, and in girls enlarges in the ratio of from five to seven. Its trans- 
verse diameter remains more nearly the same for both sexes. It has 
been thought that the shriller, higher pitch of the female voice, ob- 
servant in many animals as well as in man, has bad something to do 
in determining the sharper quality of feminine terminations in the lan- 
guages, where gender is thus dii^tinguished, TIic voice is more devel- 
oped in civilized than in savage races, and is probably slowly becoming 
lower in pitch in Europe. 

Intricate as is the anatomy of (be larynx at puberty, these changes 
are easy to understand. Its skeleton grows forward, giving greater 
prominence to the Adam's apple, where the vocal cords have their 
anterior insertion in the thyroid cartilage. In the female larynx the 
same change oi:eurs, but is much \c^s marked and generally more grad- 
ual, the larynx remaining a little bigher up in the neck. The growth 

' E»K>i «ur la Mue de Ui X'uix. 
p. 676. 

Kncydoiijdis iles ScieDoes Mfd., 1840, viH, 



to double the length or more involves the fall oE an octave in the 
pitch of the voice and a more or less prolonged period before fulness 
2Qd quality are welt eslnblished on the new basis. The first gyniptoni 
of the impending- change is slight hyperemia of the larynx, which 
oases the voice to become slightly raucous and hoarse. This may 
vuitsh in 3 few (lzy%, when it \» noticed Chat the voice is a little lower 
trat more uncertain. Often the vocal cords and cartilages to which the>- 
are attached do not grow in exact proportion llic one to the other. 
The tension is unsteady and the voice occasionally breaks to a childish 
treble, often with notes higher than were normal before the change 
h^an. iilowly phoiution t.ikcs on a distinctly adult character. 'Ilio^c 
probably go too far who assert ihat as the voice goes down in pitch it 
keeps exact pace step hy step with genital development, and that the 
deeper ix is the nvorc complete the unfoldmcnt of virility, Biercnt even 
goes so far as to think it a general rule, although not without numerous 
exceptions, that a very robust man with very abundant hair and well- 
developed sexual functions usually has a hass voice, and that dark- 
haired people usually are bassos or contraltos, and blondes are more 
likely to have high voices. Tenors, at any rate, need to be far more 
careful lo avoid errors and excess in order to keep their voice at the 
top of its condition than those who &ing bass. According to Delauney, 
Ae voice of those made eunuchs before pulicrly is always between tenor 
and soprano, because the larynx does not develop and the voice re- 
mains childish. Despite the fact that ovariotomy is now so frequent. 
Its effects on the voice arc not clear. It seems probable, however, that 
it causes a slightly more masculine timbre without involving much 
change of pitch. Masini has shown that the voices o£ prostitutes lend 
to be still itiore mannish. 

The influence of anomalies in the development of the sex organ* 
DpOD character and all the secondary sexual qualities is very marked 
and almost inevitable. Castration i)efore puberty, very common in 
some parts of Italy, even hy barbers, whose signs still advertise com- 
petitively the cheapness of the operation, which is performed not only 
to make singers for the famous Sistine choirs and elsewhere, but to 
supply the market in Oriental scraglins, etc.. arrcst.s the larynx at about 
ivo-thirds Jts normal diameter and prevents change of voice, and may 
even cause its pitch to grow actually higher. Vocal spasms, persistent 
biccup. the harsh voice of women of the street, are also in close sym- 
pathetic relation with the state of the organs of reproduction. From a 
table of Marro.' based however on only about one hundred cases, it 
would appear that the voice of Italian girls begins to descend at twelve 
or thirteen, and may reach its lowest point as late as sixteen or seven- 
teen. Vierordt's table upon this point is based on still fewer cases, and 
is far more indeterminate. 

The best attempt yet made to detennine the changes in chil- 
drtn's voices as modified by age through ilie period of muta- 

' La Pubcni, p. ti. 



tion is that of Paulsen," who carefully tested 250 individuals 
in each school class in Kiel, or in all 2,685 '^y^ Ijetween six 
and fiUeen, and 2,259 &'^'^ ^""om six to fourteen, lie used 
only children with intact respiratory and vocal apparatus, and 
with llic aid of a singing-master utilized for upper and lower 
limits unty Ihuse notes lliat could be produced without special 
effort. Children in the two lowest classes sang simple song's 
variously pitchetl for the purp<3se, and older children sang the 
scales in the vowel a. He found that 50 per cent t)egan to 
quaver at the age of thirteen; 70 per cent at fourteen; 80 per 
cent at fifteen. During change he found the throat often swol- 
len, hut not the cords, which McKenzie said were affected. 
Control is lost but afterward regained. Girls from six to nine 
increase in height only, then drop to g, where they remain till 
thirteen, when their lower limit falls to c, deepening in all only 
two and a half notes. The boys' voices on the average were 
more limited both up and down. Their increase upward at 
first keeps pace with that of the girls, but the greatest height 
is reached a year later, at twelve; then it sinks through four 
and a half notes, till at thirteen its greatest depth attained Is at 
<i. Near the end of llie childish period the voice has a range of 
nearly three octaves. Girls reach their greatest range at thir- 
teen, and boys at fourteen. 

Individual difTerences are very great : at ten, e. g., of girls 
5.6 per cent can sing only an octave or less; 85.6 per cent from 
one to two octaves: and 8.8 over two octaves; while of boys 
at ten, 12.5 can not exceed an octave; 83.7 sing between one 
and two octaves; and only 3.9 per cent sing over two octaves. 
Eliminating individual diflferences, the following table gives 
the range available for singing for each age and for Ijoth sexes. 
The first table represents the actual range minimal and max- 
imal, and the second the limits within which average children 
can safely sing; the staff being appended for convenience. 



Other studies show slightly different limits. Behnke and 
Lenox Brown ' found that from seven to ten the difference 
in the sexes b^an to be marked, and from ten to thirteen gave 
boys a practical range of from a to d, and girls from c to /. 
Another investigator concludes that in the fifth year children 
command from four to six notes, at eight years from seven to 
nine, and at twelve from eleven to fourteen notes. Vierordt 
thinks girls produce their highest notes at the age of ten. 
Miiltcr measured the length of the vocal cords and found that 
just before puberty it was .7 in. in boys and .625 in. in girls. 
Later the relation of the length of these cords was as 7 : 5 at 
rest, and as 3 : 2 iti tension. The mean length at rest in males 
he found to be .728, and In females .495, and at greatest ten- 
sion .912 and .616 respectively.' Since the important work of 
G. Manuel Garcia,' we understand the niechaiiisni of falsetto, 
or head and chest tones. We need, but still lack, a study of 
the adolescent voice as thorough and paitislaking as that which 
Garbini * lias made of the child's voice to the age of six. 

Mutation is often very gradual. Perhaps a slight hoarse- 
ness is noticed for a few days or weeks, and the voice is then 
found to be permanently lowered. Sometimes the voice is 
literally broken, perhaps into three or even more parts, with 
gaps between them, and slowly the intervals fill in. Some 
boys sing treble till nineteen. McKenzie found that of 30a 
choir boys only 1 7 per cent really showed a " tip over " of voice. 
Some voices are raucous, and there is more or less irritation, 
loss of control, and cases are on record where six or seven 
years elapsed before phonation was established on the new 
basis. Some, on the other hand, girls far more often than 
boys, continue to sing through these clianges with no apparent 
injury. The voice grows powerful and rich in l>oth sexes, and 
its timbre as well as its pitch changes. 

Pubescent hoys are especially prone fo yell and indulge in vocal 
gymnastics of a drastic kind. They often bccontc experts in imitating 
animals, the other sex, instruments, locomotives, and sounds in nature. 

'The Child\ Voiwr. London. 1885. 
' Th« Phywology o( the Ilamftti Voice. 

* ObicnratioiK on the Haman Voice. 

PP- 399-4>»- 

* SvoluiiQiK deUa voce nella tnfuiiia. 

Phil. Trans,. iSgS. p. 551. 

Proc. Royal Soc. of Londoo, vol. tiU 

VnODK, 1893. 



The iiilrTi»c emotions, such as jealousy and rage, are vocally simulated, 
and there are tnaunierablc aiTectaiions and a new vocal consciousness. 
Tones in conversation with the other sex, as appears frvra our returns, 
may be almost oleagfinous or excessively deep and hard, according to 
tenperanient and occasion. Articulation often sufTcrs for a season. 
InBcction is soowtinKs reduced and Itieii excessive. Girls simper, 
affect boyish phonation, and then tnay becoaie mincing and ovemicc. 
Speech, music, cadence, rhylhiii. and perliaiis rate of utti-rance, arc re- 
constmcted. Many bad habits, some suggesting arrest, arc settled into. 
•Voices may become nasal, throaty, coarse, aspirate, guttural. Vowel- 
izatton lacks resonance, or pronunciation is slovenly, etc. In common 
conversation, young petjpic often seem playing on the voice as if to 
explore its possibilities in all directions. In all these respects the voice 
at the season of change is very responsive to bodily states, reflecting 
the general tone, mood, sentiment, feuling, and state of health as at no 
other age of life. On cloudy days and in hot weather and when hungry, 
cbtldrcQ easily flat, and tense, nervous stales (;ivc the voice a strident, 
perhaps 5h.irp or neurasthenic lang, so that regimen, dress, food, sleep, 
etc.. are never -more important in this respect. Never is mankind so 
influenced by quality of voire as in adolescence. This is not only the 
otkconscious medium of likes and dislikes, but is often specified as the 
very first charm in the other sex. So instinctive is imitation that the 
young ought always to hear better and never worse voices than their 

Singing is the most universal language, because it is the language 
of feeling. Piety, patriotism, all the racial and domestic sentiments 
and love of nature can be thus trained. Teachers of singing hav« 
<lrifte<] very far from the intent of nature in this respect. Ix)ve, home, 
war. religion, country, and rhythm generally, it is their first duty to 
preform in tlie heart. The merely technical process of reading notes 
is a small matter compared with the education of the sentiments. 
Their function is to direct a gymnastics of the emotions, to see that 
DO false feelings are admitted, to open the soul to sympathy and social 
solidarity. " Where singing is not," «aid Luther, " the devil enters ; " 
and " I will not look at a teacher who can not sing." Melody, har- 
mony, the dynaniisni of soft and loud, quality and cadence, are the 
ponst epitome and vehicle of the higher mural qualities. Without 
litem the range or depth of the life of the heart suffers. Song should 
expurgate every evil passion and banish care and fatigue. Even the 
Chiocse call their crude music the science of sciences, and think har- 
aony connected with the function of government and the state; as 
PUlo said, a reform in music would mean a political revolution, and 
Melanchthon called it the theology of the heart. Young and old meet 
in this art, for much of the life of feeling is as jndepcndcni of age as 
of culture. The voice is the practical basis of all music. 1'he larynx 
ii, like the face, a barometer and register of feeling. Aristotle said 
music molded character as gj'mnastics do the body. 

Behnke and Brown collected opinions from two hundred teachers 



of singing nn eight questions concerning chililrcn's voices.' Most 
agree that hoy choristers do not excel as singers later. Only 
liftcen think hoy.i e»ii sting thrniigh mutation, holding Ihat the 
voice gocb to pieces (hen if out cxerciscil. Many think train- 
ing before puberty has little, and some say no effect on the 
voice aftorwanl. Children can not understand good music or 
feci it before. It is impossible to predict from the child's voice what 
it will become when adult. Sciler goes to the extreme of sayini; that 
it is useless to train ihe voice before puberty, but musical intelligence 
can be helped, and the power of hearing music through the voice,* 
which is the best mode of appreciating it. can be trained. Little chil- 
dren only are aided in voealization by dancing while they sing, ft aids 
respiration, strengthens tlic lungs, helps digestion, and the consensus 
is that from eleven to pnheriy. when the child's voice is at its best, 
cultivation is valuable musically; many advocate beginning at the 
age of two or three with very gentle, soft, and simple melodies, an<l 
that there should be a generous period of singing by imitation. It is, 
in fact, as absurd to begin singing by notes before a repertory of songs 
is acquired as it would be to teach language from a prhncr before the 
power of speech was acquired. 

Finally, we have no sympathy with Ihe view that great solicitude 
should be exercised to prevent any but pure tones at adolescence, for 
nnture seems to decree that the young should iilter every kind and 
(Icgrec of cmotitm vncally; this tnkes us far outside the narrow 
limits laid down by precisians and drill-masters, and we believe that 
the self-consciousness so common in schools concerning song Js a peda- 
gogic artifact, due to either too little or too fastidious practise, and 
that voices ought to be harsh, raw, and awkward for a season. The 
chief evil of scH-conscJousness is artificiality in tone production that 
tends to throat strain and chronic soreness. Declamation and recita- 
tion may perhaps be made to afford an adequate basis for vocal train- 
ing, espccinlly if ihc selection be interesting and adapted to the senti- 
ments of the young. Singing and speaking are at the best when the 
subject-matter occnpics the center of attention and rules arc relegated 
to the background, while music, like cailencr*. mii-.! fit the words. The 
prime question in all singing, declamation, etc.. is. What feelings and 
ideas do they express? All other things arc accessory, and all icch- 
nitjue is bad, however good per *«•, if it diverts teacher or pupil from 
the chief end of giving utterance to strong, normal, and uplifting sen- 
timents. The moral purpose thus overtops and conditions all others. 

VI. Vision.— The eye is tJie seat of the sense of fonti, color, 
light, and sliade, and is in most persons the sense nearest the 

• See F. E. Howard : The ChM Voice in Singing. N. Y.. 1898. Also Kmhs 
mxnn: Die Erltrankun^en der Sprechstitnmc. Dnniig. 1899. Vjerordl: Physiol. 
des Kinder- Alters. Treitcl Qhcr die Siimme kLi^iner Kindem. CentralbUll t, 
FhTsIol., 1S91, No. 15. 




mind. Voung children excel adults in detecting dim forms in 
the dark. and probably in fine spatial discrirni nations, Although 
we have no satisfactory experimental tests, it is proliable that 
cfaildrai distinguish grades of light and shade rather minutely 
before the perception of colors is much developed!. There is 
also reason to think that the periphery of the retina, which 
receives images from objects in indirect vision, although not so 
extended as in the adult, has more power to roll the eye re- 
flexly mitil it is brought into direct vision, and that the foveal 
power is now increased. As tlw brow, eyebrows, cheek-bones, 
and nose, which normally increase in the teens, narrow the field 
of \ision, it would seem that the difference of power between 
the fovea and ihc retinal periphery is increased. 

In Oiicago. among 2.030 boys and 2,735 gi'''s, Smedlcy 
found 32 per cent of the former and 37 per cent of the latter 
with visual defects. These increased rapidly during the first 
three years of school life, decreasing after the age of nine, first 
sk>wly, then more rapidly, till the age of thirteen was passed. 
From ten onward, tiiose with visual defect stand lower than 
those whose sight is normal, and the same was found to be true 
for nearly all ages in cases of defective hearing. 

Judgments of form are now more correct, and the power 
to grasp large and complex forms as a whole is atigmentcd. 
Gilbert marked off 62 cm., and asked cliildreii to translate the 
visual impression into muscle sense by moving the ann through 
a distance thought to he the same : he found that it was ovcr- 
judgcfi at no age, so that *' wc underestimate distance trans- 
lataj from the sense of sight to the muscle sense. Boys arc less 
accurate than girls from six to ten; then the reverse is the 
case." The age of greatest correctness was fifteen. He also 
tested children from six to eighteen, by asking them to estimate 
the number of inches between two marks twenty inches apart. 
At the age of six, these comparative estimates were only about 
one-fifth the real distance, and up to fifteen the distance was al- 
ways judged too sliort; fifteen to sixteen was the most accu- 
rate age, and older people overestimate perhaps f>ecause their 
method changes to marking off imaginary distances with the 
eye on the principle tliat a full space seems larger than an 
ertipty space. Judgments improve verj- rapidly in both scx« to 
abuut eleven, after wluch they progress much more gradually. 



Griflling' shows "that the extensive threshold or ability 
to receive and retain a number of sJinultaneaiis retinal impres- 
sions is a function of individual growth, reaching its maximum 
only when the observer is fully developed." The maximum 
numbers of letters seen at once shows a marked increase at 
puberty and on through high school and college. The tendency 
to guess decreases with maturity. The great gain from high 
school to college is especially noteworthy. 

Again, the perception of form is now gradually emanci- 
pated from other associated sensations, coming into closer 
rapport with the brain and with psychic processes, and all visual 
estimates improve. 

In testing cliildren with objects, the size and weight of 
which varied independently and sometimes inversely, Dress- 
lar" found that there was no apparent gain from the age of 
seven to fourteen in the capacity to separate visual impressions 
from pressure, but that the size confused the estimate of 
weight almost equally for all these ages. 

Gilbert also tested the influence of suggestion by seen size 
as affecting the e.stimated weight of lifted objects, and found 
that from nine the increase in accuracy for both sexes coin- 
cided tolerably with the age of fourteen, and that at fifteen 
and sixteen there was a diminution followed by a rapid increase 
to seventeen. 

Another interesting psychic change, which takes place in 
childhood and youth, ha.s been suggested by Wotfe.'wbo found 
that our notions of the size of difTerent objects differ widely. 
Young children underestimate the size of coins and bills; 
mature people overestimate the size of the former. The great 
individual differences in these estimates of children grow quite 
uniform with the dawn of the teens. It would seem that to 
young cliildren a memory image seems smaller than its object, 
while in many adults it may exceed. This suggests that draw- 
ing might concern hseU more with she. 

We also find changes due to modifications of interest. Fine 

' On iho IlevclopmeDt at Visual Perception and Atteticlon. Am. Jour, of 
P»y., Jnnuary, 1S96. vol, vii. p. 337. 

• P«ychoLogy of Touch. Am. Jour, ol Psy., June. 1894, vol. vi, pp. 50-54. 

' .Some JudginenW 00 the Sim of Faffliluu- Objecis. Am, Jour, of Psy., Janu- 
ary, 1S98, vol. ix, pp. 137-166, 



differences of face, figure, the fit of clothes, grace in motion, 
or in outline draivings now have a new meaning. We begin to 
take in our esthetic, social, and natural environment with a 
larger ken. We see better what feeds nascent interests and 
ignore tJiat which appeals to dying ones, and yet there is greater 
capacity to sec all things, self included, from the standpoint of 
the neutral spectator. Words are read in outline witliout per- 
cpptinn of the letters that compose them. Some returns indi- 
cate new interests in tracing mazes and figure ornaments, and 
in grouping repeated visual impressions, as pickets, bricks in 
the sidewalk, etc Form h^^ins to come to its indqifndcnt 
rights, and we see the l>eauty of symmetry and pro]>ortion, 
group items to larger unities, count and aggregate impressions, 
take pleasure in thing^i afar, landscapes, and the heavens which 
no other sense can attain, and there is pleasure in arranging, 
dividing, and intricating details. Thus perhaps the constella- 
tions were first imaged. 

The color sense, which appeals more to sentiment, now ac- 
quires a deeper meaning, and if children see light and shade 
best, adolescents far excel them in response to the chromatic 
world about them; the hues of blossoms and of clouds, the 
Wue of the sky. the green of the fields, etc.. now give new 
satisfaction. Colors have a suggestive and symliolic power, 
and associations are widely irradiated and cstablishc<l. Crimson 
suggests blood ; yellow, gold ; etc. There is new esthetic pleas- 
ore and pain in the harmony and contrast of colors. Their 
power to excite and depress, which Goethe first investigated in 
a cok>red room, and which makes the poetry of colors, is now 
deeply felt. 

Luckey * found that the power to see colors in indirect 
vision increased with age. but that the lack of this power in 
diildren was comjwnsated by a greater proportional range for 
Uadt and white than for color as compared with aduhs. 

Wolfe' foimd that so far as could be inferred from the 

' CmD|Mr»tive Obtervwioiw oo the Indirect Color Rftngt of Children. Adults, 
■ad Adults trained in Color. Am. Jouc. of Psy-, Jaauary, 1S95, vol. vi, pp. 

■ Tike Coloc Tocabolary of CtUIdieo. 



extent and accuracy of color vocabularies, the delicacy and 
discriminative power of children increased rapidly at first, but 
that girls make but little progress after the eleventh year, al- 
though boys continue to advance until at sevcntecu llicre is 
great improvement in discrimination of violet, orange, and 
pink, in this order. The ptjwcr to see and name violet cor- 
rectly appears from liis tables to be chicily during adolescence, 
girls having the advantage throngliout. 

Gilbert showed ten colors nearly alike to each child; he 
measured acutcness of chromatic sensibility by the average 
number of colors considered to be the same, and found a rapid 
increase of sensiliv«iess to ten or twelve, which then more 
slowly increased to a maxtnnnn at sixteen for girls. 

The sen>e of sight craves stronger stimuli. Louil colors, 
high lights, and striking contrasts arc preferred, and taste for 
mild hues, subdued tone^, and delicate tints comes later. Some 
think the range of the color scale is extended and that the red 
end of the spectrum and far more the blue and violet end is 
developed. There is much reason to believe that finer color 
discrimination in intensity and wave length and degrees of 
light and shade arises. The color world is at any rate almost 
regenerated and recreated and all its esthetic effects greatly 
enhanced. Dress, flowers, clouds and sky, chromatic ixitterns 
and all variegatetl paintings in Nature's art gallery are not 
only perceive*! more clearly, but are inwardly felt and affect 
moods. Favorite colors acquire character and individuality and 
by new analogies come to lie associated with moral and intel- 
lectual qnalitie.i. while their symbolism irradiates far into the 
world of tone, ethics, and religion, as well as esthetics, and they 
have new power over the heart. Color preferences may be so 
marked as to shade everything controllable about the person and 
the environment, and sometimes aversions are no less pro- 
nounced. These often cliange, perhaps repeatedly, and may 
be reversed, so that colors most loved wilt become unpleasant, 
and vice versa. Perhaps everything must be colored, and the 
soul becomes impressionable to what was before unnoticed, and 
new central associations and interpretations arise. Combina- 
tions painful to cultivated taste may lie for a time a delight. 
This secondary tjuality, which brain or soul is energized to 
create, is laid on to the entire visible world like a lavish coat 



of variegated fresh paint, and at the same time is given an ab- 
stract value of its own tjuite independent of form. 

Indeed, form often suffers in appreciation for a time at the 
expense of the new color life of vision. Outlines and propor- 
tions arc less keenly felt, b«t this should be and normally is 
only for a season, and the sense of the beauty that lies in these 
has later its innings. Then Uie charm of contour, h^inning 
in the limited field of a few objects, grOws acute and discrimina- 
ti^x and slowly widens from the human to the animal, plant, 
and inorganic world. Features, every article of dress, points 
in pets, the utensils of play and work, sights and individual 
objects in nature, drawing apart from painting, not only come 
again to their rights, but have their own value both discrimina- 
tive and esthetic if the development of the sensory is not prema- 
turely checked, in a way pregnant with suggestion for courses 
of artistic training that seek to follow rather than force nattirc. 
It is as if the retinal cones, if they mediate color, or their cere- 
bral endings and connections, precede the rods and their an- 
nexes in the adolescent push upward to the adult plane, only 
to be followed by tlie latter when tlieir nascent period comes. 

Vli. General Craz'iiig. — In tliese changes of sensory re- 
sponse to the objective workl, it is often diffiadt. as we have 
indicated, to say how much is due to new interests or to high- 
er bbility or potentlalization of brain cells, and how much, if 
any, is left to be explained by changes in the perlplieral organs 
of sense themselves. .Among the I4,cx)0 different sensations 
whicli Knipe thinks can be <liscriminated, many may he grad- 
ualtv lost and others developed by attention and fixed habit. 
There is, no doubt, an important change in the relative prom- 
inence of the different senses in our psychic life at this stage 
with its ne>v emotions, interests, and apathies. Adolescent 
years mark the goklen age of sense, which is so prone to be- 
come sensual if uncontrolled. Then the soul exposes most 
ftirface, as it were, to the e\lemal world. The eye gate and 
ear gate especially are open tlicir widest, and not only that, 
Inrt tlie feeling lone and the general sense feeling, so largely in- 
flcpeiideni of perception, are also at their liest, so tlial the pos- 
sibilities of knowing our workl and acquiring experience on 
the one hand, and of lapsing to a life of indulgence, are now 




most developed. It lias been suggested that this latter may be 
somewhat inversely as iJiscriminative ]>o\ver, but this view is 
partial and needs the most careful liniilatlon, When we re- 
member that there is almost no swch thing as memory for feel- 
ings tlicmselvcs, but only for the conceptions which accom- 
pany or are rccn forced by them, wc can see how the reminis- 
cences of acUilts on this point mnst be received with caution. 

In fine, we must conceive the traffic inward along all the 
sensory tracts augmented in a curve of increment yet to be 
more exactly charted, and all the sensory areas of the brain to 
be both more highly sensitized and flooded with masses of 
impressions that for a time are confused and very imperfectly 
understood or worked ofT into their normal channels of reac- 
tion, and properly coordinated. The growth of the sex organs 
and functions sends inward a confused mass of impressions 
that can not be interpreted or at first even localized. Especially 
is this true of girls, because their organs arc both more inward 
and relatively larger in size and fimction. These, too, give a 
feeling of intensilied existence, sentiments of strange, nameless 
yearning, aimless unrest, moments of rapture and fulness of 
life and joy abounding, alternating perhaps with misgiving and 
periods of slight depression which can not be explained, as if 
the soul were in the hands of some deep, mysterious, but fateful 
principle that had power to play at its own ahen and capricious 
will upon all its frets and strings. An indescribable rapture 
supervenes when we wake or sleep, and then its charm fades 
and leaves the world a little somber with the sense of some 
vanished good. Some supreme goal that seemed near retreats 
to a distance that seems unattainable. Both these states and 
their fluctuations, poetry, art, romance, and religion have 
described in their polymorphic sliapes in countless ways and 
with all the imagery available in earth's scenery chambers. 

Thus one of the most characteristic descriptions of this 
period is that it is preeminently the age of sense, and hence 
prone to sensuousness not only in taste and sex, where the 
danger is greatest, but in the domain of each of the sense 
species. Eveiy centripetal nerve glows and tingles with new 
life, and every in-going fiber is freighted and even gorged with 
the traffic of impressions. Never is the body so imperiously 
dominant and so insistently in evidence, and never is the ex- 



tCTTial world so ineluctable and impressively real, as in this im- 
pressionistic age. Never is objective and subjective experience 
so vivid and so manifold. Youth is in its world, in the closest 
rapport with it possible to man. It not only lights but often 
bams his soul. He would touch it at every point, explore its 
rverj' possibility, receive everything it lias to give, and revel 
in it (o intoxication. All this is his riglit and his necessity, only 
it must neither lead to per\'ersion or become so overwhelmingly 
absorbing as to cause arrest or degeneration. Thus the soul is 
furnished : for, whatever our philosophy, it is never so nearly 
true as at this age, that there is nothing in the intellect that 
does not get there through the senses, for now the chief activity 
of the mind is working over the sense capital thus acquired. 



\veTsion to gmeiic views oi the Kool owing to uiiiinc JntcrcsE in ila (aiure— 

Neglect of its somitic vid hislmic rclmioDS by modern ultra, idMlism uul 
cpistcmology — Evils of pore sptculation aiid extreme duali»m— Neglect of 
lessous fronn Animals, children, and s&vages — Itarrcnnets of system) and 
ftpecuUiions for knowledge of the feelings — PoaluUies of & true genetic 
psychi^logy and its liiological basis — A new evolulionftry concept ol sotil — 
Adolescent chAnges in instincts and tecliiij(s, altcrnatiocs between inertness 
and excitement, pleasure and pain, self-eonlidence and humility, selRshness and 
altmisn). socicly and solitude, sensitiveness and dutness. knowing and doing, 
conservaiiim and iconoclasm, sense and intellect — Necessity of developing all 
tendencies freely before the age of consistency and oniiy — The interval be- 
tween pithecoid and primitive nuka — Phyletic and individual correlates — Ado- 
ICMeDce to advance up the age Kale. 

Before considering the normal psychic changes that oc- 
ctir during: the period of scxti^:! maturity, it is necessary at the 
outset to state in a brief and summary way — because the topic 
is to l>e dwelt on more fully in another book — the general con- 
ceptions of the soul that underlie and condition the treatment of 
adolescence and childhood, especially because the standpoint is 
different from that of our psychological and philosophical con- 
teniporaries. and, we believe, embodies a new idea of profound 
scientific and practical importance which has a great and as- 
sured future. 

It may be roughly characterized as in some sense a nei-v and 
higher monism and an evolutionism more evolved, with a 
method which has already yielded some promising results 
hitherto unattained and a program of far more work yet to 
he (lone, which is little in harmony with the complacent 
sense of finality and completeness so often manifest. From this 
standpoint it becomes plain how gross have been the errors in 
both conceiving and practically training the .soul, which are 
due to the inexpugnable and all-dominant interest in its future 



+ 1 

State and the insistent and, to our thinking, not only unscien- 
tific but almost abnormal aversion to consider its past. This 
gcnetophobia pervades, consciously or often unconsciously, 
much of the best ancient and contemporarj' philosophical and 
theological thought, and is one of the greatest and most invet- 
erate obstacles to a tnily scientific psychology'. The problem 
of the nature of the soul has also rarely, save in forms of 
materialism now generally discarded, been separatetl from that 
of a futnrc life, has led lo a horror of materialism that is almost 
mtsophobta, and has betrayed many able professors to take an 
attitude toward genetic psychology like that of Agasslz toward 
e^'olution. Like every other prevalent aberration of the human- 
mind, this has deep historic roots, several of which nuist be 
roughly indicated lo understand it. It began in the Western 
mind with " the fall of man in Socrates and Plato." In tum- 
ig to the study of man. they neglected nature and disparaged 
naive and unconscious in the human soul. It was assumed 
that there was no good even in unreasoned virtue, which could 
kDot be really such until it became noetic and sophisticated. He 
who knew the right and did not do it. Instead of thereby 
increasing his guilt, was already more than half-way to per- 

I. The doctrine of anamnesis or reminiscence first admitted 
a most significant past to the psyche, but it was in a transcendent 
rorld which had endowed it with only just those ideas which 
*Iato held to and of which he made Socrates the midwife in 
this life. Education culminated in their recovery to conscious- 
Metempsychosis had also yet earlier held to a past for 
soul, and Nemesis and Kanna were doctrines of retribution 
and reward for the next previous state. Since ancient Greece, 
however, categories or innate ideas, as Trendelenbeig and Laas 
Lwell sliow, have l>een the goal or the basis or both of most 
lilosophic systems, but from .Aristotle's ten to Kant's twelve, 
they have been underived and Melchizedician, as holy to the 
^disciples of each school as the Mosaic tables, till Spencer sug- 
iited that even 'all of those that were valid, although a priori 
and innate in the individual, were acquired by the race. This 
.proposition will always be abhorrent to every pure inluition- 
'aUst mind that has a passion for absolute presuppositionless 



Christianity, too, has shown little interest in the past of 
the soul, save for that of its founder and in order to account 
for sin. Its emphasis on personal immortality gave the soul 
immense and unprecedented dignit>'. but focused attention and 
cndenvor upon its future. Even the traducianism of Tcrtul- 
lian, who taught that the soul was in some sense hereditary and 
had a somatic continuity witli previous generations back to 
Adam, found little vogue, helpful as it was in explaining the 
mystery of transmitted sin and guilt, and was twice condemned 
A8 a heresy, although Luther seems to have held it. Some form 
of t-rcitionism, or the view that at a certain age of llie embryo 
a newly an<l miraculously made soul joined the body ab extra, 
has hern the [>rcvailitig one. The soul of the natural man is 
Inintcd, corrupt, and children dqjraved perhaps totally at birth, 
nnd the supreme work of life is to save it from eternal woe. 
AHceticiim demeaned this life for the sake of the next, and as 
the tiiiul and Its <Iesttny became glorious, the body was maccr- 
lileil nnd its regimen neglected. The world was made out of 
IhuIc m.-itler, cliaos, or from nothing, but no one ever even 
iinl(rt| of what the soul was made. In condemning every form 
tit the doctrine of preexisJence of the soul, the Qiurch lost some 
f»f Ihr bcnl argumaits for its post-nuirtem existence. I>ut these 
were never appreciated save for the person of Christ. Thus, 
while the body might come in part from the parent, every soul 
Wii» a newly made thing with no history. It was, in its own 
llHlnie, iuitnicle the current of heredity, but was corrupted by 
Cnntnet with the sinful body through which it was dragged 
dt>wn unlrns rescued by a special redemptive work. The focus 
i)f nil interest in the soul was thus, how to insure its salvation 

The ethical value of the idea of a fiiture life of rewards 
rikI piiniiluneiits has, of course, been incalculabie. If it has 
Imniljtil In cosmo- heteronymous motives of morality unknown 
til itip Stoic* nnd disallowed by Kant: if it has sometimes en- 
gcndeird n tran»ccn<lental selfishness that may become gross. 
And In neurotic ngc«. races, or persons, favored fears and anx- 
li^tlei llmt were hysterical; if formal, external, and even me- 
rh^tnlcn) wnys nnd means of salvation have often been relied 
iin— hII ihMc things concern us here only as products and illus- 
liBtitins o( the evils of a too exclusive interest in the soul's 




future, which is, in fact, still unknowable save to faith, and of 
excessive neglect of its past, which is really now increasingly 
accessible and which is proverbially the best means of judging 
of its future. 

One striking example of the havoc which this lust to pierce 
the secrets of the future makes with science is seen in the Eng- 
li^ Psychic Research Society. It has collected masses of 
predous and hitherto neglected border-land phenomena between 
waking and sleep, sanity and insanity, on trancoidal states, 
automatisms of body and mind, illusions, hypnotism, etc. But 
almnst the sole interest of this large and cultured society in 
these data is what contribution they make to what its able leader 
Cftlls " the most insistent question of the human heart. If a man 
die, shall he live again ? " Is there a land of disembodied spir- 
its, and can comnnmication be established and demonstrated 
between tliem and usP Possession, apparitions, phantoms of 
the dead, messages from the ghost world, or transcendental as 
well as mundane telepathy, and in general an inductive demon- 
stration of a survival of the soul after death, are thus the themes 
or crmchisions, directly nr indirectly, inspiring all this work.' 
Now the folly and pathos of all this is that every fact and group 
of facts relied on point for their explanation directly and only 
tn the past of the individual or the race and not to the future, 
toihc ab- and sub- and not to the super-normal, or perhaps to 
the body even more than to the spirit. Greatly indebte<l as our 
prild is for facts, suggestive af^crcus, and new interests to 
ihe«c students, their ser\'icc is, as 1 have elsewhere tried to 
point out in some detail.* not unlike that of alchemists who 
sought the elixir of life for chemistry, of astrologists in quest 
of the influence of the stars on human life for astronomy, and 
just as the desire to locate heaven and faith in planetary in- 
fluences and modes of attaining physical immort;ility had to 
ht cast out of these fields before science could really do its 
ptat work in them, so similar purgation must be made here. 

How profoundly contemporary psychologists and philoso- 
plwrs of the highest academic rank, even those who shrink from 

' Sec IlumaLO Pcrtonatilj and its Surviv*! of UodUy Deftth, by F. \V. II. Myers. 
SmU. Londui). igoj. 

*5«« my fuller exposlrion ai these points in the Am. Jam. of Vsy., vol. vU, 




all such extreme conclusions, are influenced by this bias, con- 
sciotisly or unconsciously, in the deeper motivations of llieir 
work, its direction, melhods, and conclusions, wc sec on every 
band. One professor of great learning and acumen has l>ecn 
apparently almost unpivoted by the prolonged and acute study 
of the revelations of a noted trance medium, which he is con- 
vinced are from relatives in the spirit world. Another profound 
anti acute leader of America.n metaphysical thought attains as 
his consummate conclusion the conviction of an eternal world 
of nisny monadic minds or selves, in a republic or city ot God, 
the free members of which control the natural world and are 
the sources of alt its law. The supreme fact in his world is 
" the eternal reality of the individual." Creation itself is not 
an event, but a symbol, and these personal spirits never fully 
and completely enter the real world, for tbcy are out of time 
and of the chain of causality. Another of no less power and 
eminence makes the goal of philosophy the demonstration of 
an intlividualily deeper, more ])ermanent. and real than that of 
persons as they appear to us, because knowledge and love are 
stronger than life, and so, if our nature is not a lie, the actuality 
of our dead friends transcenils Such instances might 
be multiplied. The great majority of people, expert as well as 
lay, think and speak of soul in the future tense, and to very 
few does the word suggest any connolation with the past. 
Ask the very man on the street what he thinks of the soul, and 
he assumes that you speak of another life or of preparation 
for it. 

11. This proleptic and sometimes almost cataleptic interest 
in the soid's future has also been a deep psychological motive 
in most of the vast body of discussions, past and present, on 
the relations of the mind and body, and the aversion to even 
any very close association between the two is inveterate. Dr. 
McCosh held that t!ic student of psychology must, at the out- 
set, strip the idea of soul of every material metaphor. It is 
independent of time and space, has no place, age, form, etc. 
Paulsen says in his introduction, " thoughts are not in the 
brain ; one can just as well say that they are in the stomach or 
in the moon, etc." For James, the brain obstructs thought 
like a bad conductor. '* Our brains are thin, half-transparent 
places in the veil," through which the great life of soul ** breaks 



into this world in all sorts of restricted fomis." Elscwliere he 
makes purgation of the body by urging with unusual fervor 
that sex has nothing whatever to do with the psychology of 
religion, which is in fact a hollow and, to quite an extent, an 
unreal thing without it. Soul and body are opposed and con- 
trasted at every point. This tendency is a well-preserved tra- 
dition of idealism. Descartes, its modern advocate, thought 
mind and matter had nothing in common, and his successors 
thought them only externally attached. Even volition, in order 
to affect the body, and sensation, to give knowledge of things, 
roust go through God as a mediating tertiitm quid. So began 
the tragic war between the ego and its object, and the terms 
of truce drawn up by Kant and his successors, under whose 
influence the problem of the perception and the possibility of 
knowing the external world has been worked out, have for 
many generations been the focus of all interest in the world 
of soul, and the process of dissolving the objective world lias 
become an academic cult that plays on the <lreanieries of 
adolescence and robs it of zest, vigor, and faith. It is a mental 
tonic, but sterilizes the heart and paralyzes the will. Incom- 
mensurahilit)* is their postulate, not unity, and just now even 
psj'chologists are addicted to making subtle but utterly scholas- 
tic distinctions between theories of parallelism and interaction, 
with arguments I would far rather be refuted by than use. 
These thinkers constitutionally resist everj* important, trans- 
fonning, and formative norm or principle that is oflfered to 
psychology from any department of physical .science, for which 
the>' affect to legislate methods and lay down limitations on 
high a priori grounds. What can brute matter tell us of its 
lofty partner, mind? It must rather be held up and brought to 
its haunclies like Plato's dark steed, and dualism is puslied to 
its uttermost in every domain. 

Ultra idealism I hold to be pathological, and hypertrophied 
self-consciousness to be at least in part and perhaps essentially 
a remedial process, but it is now so drastic that many succumb 
under it. It may in part be grossly and physiologically described 
IS premature exce5si%-e development of associative activities 
over those of the projection system which mediates sensation 
aawl motion. Modem man at best has lost much keenness of 
sense and his motor life tends to caducity. His muscles arc 


flabby from disuse, and efferent stimuli are lor^ -circuited to 
cerebral activities instead of l)eing reflected at once to motion. 
As sight becomes <lominant, toiicb, the mother sense, which 
ainne gives the most inexpugnable sense of reality, retires in 
favor of a paper currency of visual experience, and thus, as is 
inevitable, those who subject themselves long to this discipline 
feci a little removed from the basal properties of matter.' The 
cyc-mindcd man is perhaps more predis|josed to idealism than 
the practical, motor-minded type. Tlie blind have the most 
unfaltering sense of the reality of the external world because 
they are nearer the original tangible form in which reality was 
first given. An age of wealth, too, withdraws from the stem 
struggle for existence which most impresses objectivity. For 
thinkers by profession, especially if they are not men of science, 
who are vvitlulrawn from the palpitating interests of hterature 
or social life and politics, sheltered and isolated still more by 
a fixed and assure<l salary in old, endowecl, respectable, but 
uninspectal institutions, segregated in the study, so that 
knowledge of Hfe and nature comes not even from the lalwra- 
tory, but from the pallid, sccond-haiid source of books, await- 
ing in this environment the time of life when youthful cxul)er- 
ancc of not only sense and motion but even of passion Ijqfins 
toal>ate, fed upon the literature of Hindu, Greek, and German 
idealism rather than upon science — for such the whole physical 
universe and the world of throbbing life and action is pretty 
sure to fade ami the inner world of thought to become all in all. 
Having attained, by whatever processes, the scttle<1 convic- 
tion that matter is non-being, that the rich, booming cosmos is 
maya or illusion, mere eject, project, possibility of sensation, 
thing-in-i(self, etc., and that even its receptacles, time and space, 
arc only subjective forms, there comes as the first result an 
elation and exaltation that nothing else, unless it be paranoia 
or certain drugs, can give. Mind is supreme, has come to its 
own kingdom, can not respect itself too highly as the cosmo- 
thetic creator and bearer of the universe. And now comes, in- 
terpolated between Berkele>* and Hume, where this develop- 

' Sw > laggcttivc nri;atnent on ihls poini by A, Fnucr. on VlsttaliEation «s the 
Chief Soufoe of ihc P»ychology &f tf nbbcs. Lockt. R»kcl«y. and Hume, tad ui- 
other on the Foandoiluo ol Xatural kcniism which he ihinks to b« loucb. Am* 
JooT. of Ps/chul-, vol. i<t, p]}. 3jo, 411^ Sec aIm ch. xvi, g vii (a). 



ment st^ge should be both in the gciit.'tic atul pedagogic order, 
for they arc its inevitable Nemesis, the great romantic period 
of philosopliizitig. Tlie soul, or rather one of its forms of ac- 
tinty, speculative reason, proceeds to recreate from within or 
posit the world, and to read a new title clear to what sense had 
lost. It is all will and idea, or, Froschammer thinks, imagina- 
tion; the real and rational arc identical. Nature is derived, 
evolved, construed. The pantheistic soul of the individual, the 
oracle of the world soul, the sole mouthpiece of God, itself 
traDScendent, is given a rank and dignity unprecedented in 
many ways, even by preexi.stence theories, and the pensonal 
soul of the thinker Iwconies a f-arvits in sua gemre dciis, the 
of^n of all the categories, and its self-coi]sciousness is deemed 
the blossom of all the world processes, with conscience the 
vicegerent of tiie Divine, conviction immediate, the certainty 
of reason almost convulsive, re-revealing rehgion, etc This, 
t(»o. is the stage uf the great postulates, Platonic myths of a 
transcendental self, a world soul that creates by thinking, a 
supernal will that is energy, ideas that are arclielypal, a con- 
science that is autonomous and absolute, etc. 

But this ravishing interlude is soon seen to rest only on a 
"lran.sceiidental subreption " in the Avemian progress of Carte- 
sian doubt. Hume long before had taken the inevitable next 
step; the ego itself must go the way of tlie external world. We 
can truly know only states of mind, and every inference, not 
only of the existence of matter, of souls in animals and other 
raen, but of any subjective reality, is unwarranted by rigid 
eptstemological thinking that must be content to replow and 
crossplow the same old fie!4ls of adult consciousness without 
atlcnipting to clear new land and bring it under cultivation. 
The only possible logical conclusion is the nihilism of Gorgias. 
Nothing exists; if something did exist, we could not know it, 
and if we knew anything, we could not tell it. We must doubt 
e\*en that we doubt, and may do this doubting the new doubt 
indefinitely. The solipsistic involucre ends at Inst with only at 
most the mental contend of the present flitting moment, with 
ever)' inference to the reality not only of nature hut of the 
doubter, or even of other of his own states of mind not on the 
instant present, denied, and so instead of a glorious soul there 
remains only an inner void. There is no other goal for the 



rigorous thinker, who has the courage of his convictions, than 
Ut piuh on to this uticr bankruptcy and abortion. Few have 
Uie hardihood to lake the extreme step, but many have had 
their mctital eyeballs seared by coming within sight of tliis 
hell of complete skepticism and agnosticism. All such are 
llierc»fter changed beings. The zest of life has faded as by 
precfKutuB Kcnescence, so that they arc a little aloof, Mahatmas, 
who never love, hate, enjoy nature and life without reserve, 
awl they ran no lunger live quite like those who have never ex- 
ptrlencerl the great disenchantment. With a sense of superior 
imiifhi hn» come aridity of heart, and the intellect has enfeebled 
llw will. Few things arc worth doing with enthusiasm and 
•Ijandrm. untei* it be to devise ways of escape, and to this some, 
t»tMTi»||y noi'lemJc teachers, address themselves.^ I believe 
lh)» Uiw U> U- valid and often illustrated, viz.. that, other things 
Whv crjtwl, the more rigorously and extremely the logic of 
dfjij(4 Uu* \irrn ^p]>lied in one's personal experience, the more 
rfuprrate ihc jullo mortale he is prone to make to escape. Those 
¥/hff Ihv# gritic very far, ntay have recourse to some very satu- 
raUfl f'rfrn 'if religious orthodoxy, or spiritism in some of its 
h*l crAM irKrdrrn formi, while those who have for any reason 
pauMnJ midwny mi the downward road tend to have recourse 
to 111* yrcat jK^ilutateB of romantic pliilosophy described in the 
bM p»r»t(TitiiU. 

Now aucli in experience, or indeed any very long, serious 
and -(yrnpailiciic work with extreme idealism and cpistcmology, 
generally (hkf|unlillei for whole-souled work in any science, 
and most of all in psychology considered as a natural science. 
Such thinkers often attempt objective, inductive work in tlie 
laboratory, clinic, etc., and often make brilliant suggestions, 
but if it does not lack true scientific quality and show signs 
of Ijeing amateurish and merely non-avocational, this work is 
peculiarly prone to lie u]>on speadative or insoluble questions 
or to be marked by defective rigor of method, so that one great 
need, especially now and in this country, is an eflfcctive demar- 
cation between psychology as a science of nature and as a 

' Sn my College Phlloiophy, Forum, Jane, 1900, where I have tried to describe 
the eptslemologiciU proccsMa now in vogue o( fini losing the soul «nd then find. 
ing m wty of SAlvstiom, 


of philosophy. 'ITius much of what is now called psy- 
y is half speculative philosophy. and if not hermaphrodite 
nA nwngrel, as every editor in this field knows, much that is 
offered it has at least the mark of hybridity, i.e., sterility, so that 
brge as it is now, it can have no future save in history as a 
new tj-pe of schohsticism. Genetic psychology is still more 
aben to the cpistcmologists, because tliey have their own 
pseudogenesis of mind in the r«ilm of speculation and intro- 

HI. A tliird obstacle which genetic psycholog)- encounters 
has an instructive analogue in that which Darwinism had to 
o\*ercomc in the wide-spread and almost inexpugnable convic- 
tion tliat the study of living forms consisted in defining and 
classifying genera and species, and that these were fi\-ed and 
intransmu table one into the other, and therefore, if the devel- 
opment theory were established, instead of being near its goal, 
Uolog>' would lie shown to be really just beginning and the very 
toes of classification thought to be established would be seen 
lobe many of them artificial- So psychogcnesis seems utterly 
lawless to most of the philosophers, even those who also afTcct 
psychology. It has little respect for the narrow limits they 
assign it and ignores their carefully laid down boundaries. It 
knows and claims its own in logic, metaphysics, ethics, religion, 
and pedagogy, in a way that perturbs the cartographer and tab- 
ulator of all the fields of human knowledge. The philosophic 
type of mind can do nothing without definitions at the start; 
the psychologist is content to descrilie and shrinks from defin* 
ii^ at all, at least, save at the end. The philosopher has his ste- 
reotyped and conventionalized pigeon-holes — idealism, realism, 
materialism, dogmatism, skepticism. ])ositivism, intuitionalism, 
empiricism, and the rest, and if he is above the partisanship 
that uses the isms not his own as epithets, he classifies a!! think- 
ers, ancient and contemporary, under one or another, bring- 
ing these distinctions into the foreground as introductory or 
propaedeutic courses, of which we have now so many illustra- 
tions in current text-books and courses. The psychologist, 

I Sm Ml exquisite iHuttralioD in Jtidil's Genetic Piychology for Teachers, New 
I9OJ. whkh decries all (tenelic erolalion Mve only th^t which CODICS tnat 
lUMlysts of KU-«7an:ioaia»». 



liolding that all thinking men are all of these In differing pro- 
portion and are any one of ihein at most, as it were, only by a 
small majority, if they are not dwarfed or maimed, would, in 
teaching, bring his pupils into a relation of sympathetic appre- 
ciation with each standpoint witliout bias or partiality; IxJtli to 
this end and also for pedagogic reasons, ho defines and differ- 
entiates these standpoints only after a broad basis of knowl- 
edge has made them by turns, though unconsciously, but as 
wholly as possible, critics, pessimists, optimists, ontologists, 
phenomenologists, materialists, idealists, and all the rest. 

Oken's organosophy. assuming that animals are but fetal 
forms of man, classified radiates as intestinal, annelids as res- 
pirator)*, fishes as osseous, amphibia as muscular, birds as nerv- 
ous animals, etc., calling each a crystallized thought or word 
of God. Most philosophical classifications of systems, human 
faculties and departments, and even sciences, arc equally prone 
to magnify one prominent part or function till it becomes the 
chief or sole mark — an error that induction has long described 
and warned against as due to underestimating the complexity 
of nature, life, and mind. Theologians hold that men arc 
either Christians, fetish worshipers, Buddhists. Mohammed- 
ans. Coiifucianists, etc., but the psychology of religion shows 
that the individual who has a full and normal development is 
essentially several, if nut many or even all of these in turn, or 
even at one and the same lime.* So in philosophy, age, mood, 
culture-stage, perhaps sex, demand a difTcring succession of 
isms already beginning to be slowly made out. Childhood is 
sensual, materialistic, very dualistic; youth, ideal, optimistic; 
manhood, realistic, [wsitivistic ; and pessimism and especially 
epistcmology are essentially the fit philosophy of old age if of 
any period of life. The history of philosophy teaches that the 
mono-ideistic thinkers, who lived a lifetime in one system and 
who are the types in whom the schemati^ers delight, either 
stifTcncd in the mold by precociously formulating and defining 
their ideas too early in life, ably defending in maturity the posi- 
tion to which they chose to commit themselves with insufficient 
orientation in youth, or else were the victims of an environment 
or an age itself overwrought, one-sided, and extreme. Growth, 

> Se« Jean Du Buy. 
|ire».) Also cti. siv. 

Five Gieml Religtoiu tu SUgci of DcvclupmcaL Uu 


oa the olher hand, is essentia!!)- non-]ogicaI and forever incon- 
sistent with ilseif. The logic of the schools is ex post facto. 
It follows after achievement and discovery, and at best tells a 
little of how mind has achieved its triumphs in the p;isl. warns 
of errors, but it never either guided or inspired new steps. 
Plato and Kant showed genetic progress despite the rigor of 
their reasoning, and Schelling is still more instructive to the 
geneticist, for he molted successive systems of thought, as 
to some extent did Lotze and Fichte, although their meta- 
morphoses were limited in both range and number. That some 
day psychology will be able to give us. in place of the crude 
phenomenologies and abstract constructions of tlie history of 
philosophy from Hegel to our day, a true genetic, natural his- 
tory of iK>mial stages in human development, using systems as 
human documents, somewhat as it now uses returns from chil- 
dren, IS a new. if yet a little dreamy, possibility, which, when it 
is realized as it is sure to \x sometime, will give a larger range 
to our pilgrim's prepress through life. If this ever be, there 
will be not one Zarathuslra, but several, and perhaps many vari- 
eties, and they will not exemplify the present ty]>es of philoso- 
phy as laid down in our introductions, but the psychology of 
each will include all, only with characteristic diversities of 

IV. All three of these tendencies contribute to what is 
nevertheless in some sense a distinct and fourth obstacle to 
genetic psycholog-y. viz., the disposition to regard animals as 
well as defectives, savages, and children as too remote from the 
life of adult culture to shed much light upon the mature mind. 

(a) There is a chasm, variously defined, deepened between 
09 and primitive people by prejudices which very few are able 
to overcome, and recognize lower ethnic strata sympathetically 
at Iheir true worth.' " To know a typical savage is to love and 
respect him," is the sentiment often expressed as the result of 
long intimacy. They are only children and adolescents of 
mature years, if unspoiled by civilization, with far more vigor- 
ous (jodics and often purer lives than ours, and perhaps in- 
tended as relays to take up the burden of the world's progress 

'See ny Article on Th« Relations bctTrccii Ixiwerand Hif^er Ruei. 
Kus. Hbt. Soc., Juiiury, 1903. Also dup. xriiL 




on the center of the liistoric stage when we have gone the way 
of Egypt, Greece, and Rome. Without knowing than and 
their ways, we can not understand children, religion, or educa- 
tion, our own earlier history or that of our institutions. Man 
was no tloubt far longer in their state than they have been in 
ours. We have had too little sympathy with the anthropol- 
ogy of myth, custom, and belief, which, great as its achieve- 
ments are, has won little academic recognition in curricula, 
examinations, and degrees, and with which the philosoph- 
ical psychologists fail to connect. Students of the soul 
should be students of man, and the iinanthropolngical character 
of American psychology is not only un-American, but scien- 
tifically so unnatural that it must be transient. Field work here 
has a disciplinary and broadening cfTeut, now one of the most 
urgent needs of our too cloistered and sequestered work, but 
to the speculative type of mind this seems remote, too purely 
objective and hard. It is precisely psychological study that 
is most needed for these vanishing races if we would truly 
know ourselves, and only a profound conviction of the validity 
and the value of psychic evolution can give the right motiva- 
tion to this work. 

(6) Tlie same is true of defectives, criminals, and the in- 
sane. There is the same lack of motivation and lukewarm 
interest. Every truly inductive psychologist values above price 
the few minute clinical and other personal studies of individual 
cases which show devolutional phenomena, and feels that he 
is helped on to know more of the stages by which man became 
mail and of the difficulties, and therefore dangers, of the ascent 
still seen in adolescence. T know of but one or two American 
universities in which a course in morbid psychology and clin- 
ical work is part of the regular work of tlie department, and 
although it is correlated with neurological work, even this is 
confessedly inadequate. Our sophistic psychologists rarely 
ri^rd this work with contempt, and most of them not with 
entire indifference, but so intent are they in their quest of the 
Holy Grail of reality, or of the golden fleece of categories and 
moral sanctions, that they neglect it unless it serves the pur- 
pose of literary impressionism, illustration, or disputation. 

(c) Animal psychology, or mind in the animal world, ia 
now liappily less often an object of animosity or disparage- 




mcnt. Descartes found that tlie implications in this field were 
irreconcilable with his speculative system, and so non-suited 
e\vn the higher animals as non-iiitelligeiit and cvl'ii senseless 
automatisms, who did not really feel pain; despite the re- 
cent revival of interest in a scientific as distinct from a specu- 
lative treatment of the study of instinct, not only is his ques- 
tion often treated seriously in texts and in class-rooms, but it 
is incessantly reenforccd by the sophistic argument that, as we 
can not really know other minds or matter, wc can much less 
know the animal world, so that idealism not only makes no 
contribution to this field, but disheartens those it interests from 
attempting it. In this way, too, it countenances extreme views 
of tropism like those of Ix>eh. and of meclianism like liethe, 
who says ants and bees have no interests far the psychologist. 
Great as was the value of the triumph of the views of Marshall 
Hall over those of Whylt, and of Pfliigcr over those who held 
to a spinat soul,' mechanism, althuugli always present, can just 
as much, but no more, completely explain animal than human 
conduct, and to eliminate sentiency and all analogies to human 
life is only a grimace or affectation of science; this, as Forel 
and others have shown, greatly limits both its scope and effi- 
ciency, and is as extreme in one direction as the almost totemic 
overestimation of aninjal sagacity by Jacobi, Fechner, and 
otiiers- Anthropomorphism here has a very important func- 
tion, as well as limitation, both of which thcorizcrs arc so prone 
10 magnify. 

The higher animals feel pleasure and pain and have many 
algedonic experiences in common with us. 'Hiey have our five 
senses, memorj'. and attention, and most of our forms of reflex 
action. They sleep, wake, fee! hunger and thirst, form food- 
societies, and much of their activity, like man's, is to satisfy 
their wants. They have se.xual sensations and desires, many 
forms of courtship and showing off, sex-calls, songs, feel 
rivalry and jealousy, and fight. They make homes often very 
daborate; shelter, defend, and feed their young. Fear is a 
prominent factor in their conduct, as is anger and rage. They 
have esthetic appreciation and preferences for color, form, and 

' Sm tof Sketch of the Hittory of Rellei Action, and iu coDtinualivD, bj Dt. 
Hodge. An. Jour, of Psjr., vol. Ui, pp. 71, 149. 




action. Tliey play, fonn fainilics, associnte in flocks, swarms, 
cavcj's, packs, and droves, and often have highly developed 
social organizations and classes, with communal sympathies. 
Some kill the weak, make slaves, have great power of imitation, 
make toilets, are cducable, etc. They arc liable to many of the 
same diseases as we, have parasites, often suffer various forms 
of insanity and degeneration.' and have many of the symptoms 
of old age. Some species are great collectors, and otliers cas- 
trate their superfluous males. They migrate, organize, forage, 
rob, hunt, take captives, feign deatJ), and distract eiieniies that 
arc on their tracks. 

Many animals do many things that man can not. They 
have better homing instincts, eslivate. hilieniale, horripilatc, 
breetl faster, have far keener and probably oilier senses, excel 
us in speed, strength, and agility, ami have ways of knowing 
direction and the weather; they weave, felt, plaster, make many 
products, and conform to many conditions uf hfc unfavorable 
for man. 

Of the many differences between the animal aiid the human 
mind, the use and creation of tools and of clothes, the invention 
of language, association by similarity, conscience and morality, 
religion, progress, etc., have been urged, hut those most familiar 
with the brute mind and the recent b'tcraturc uptm it. while they 
best know that the superiority of man in these respects is very 
great, will be least (.lisjmscd to deny to animals at least faint 
rudiments in all these respects. There is then no absolute, Init 
only quantitative, differentiation. A late comparative psychol- 
ogist boldly figm'cd out the ratio of 50-28 as marking the rela- 
tive psychic powers of lower races of men and higher animals 

(J) The same, in changed terms, is true of childhood and 
youth, the value of the study of which I hope this book shows. 

With all four of the alwve tendencies, a psychology titat 
refuses to evict common sense both in the popular sense and in 
that of the Scotch philosophy which short-cirmits tlie Kantian 
ditour; that would regard the chief writers, from Descartes 

' See the Intirnctive snd too little knowa volume of Pierquin: Tnit< de Ifl 
Folic dcs Aoinuax. Puis, 1839. 


m Hcgcl. as a philosopliic intennezzo. which, while full of ex- 
hitaration and rich in lessons, replete with interest and instruc- 
tion, is not essential for its purposes, save as a precious human 
document and warning-; that seeks a pure culture of naturahsm 
and induction ; that heheves that neither the world nor the soul 
is lost, and that nature and mind have the same root ; that holds 
Ihst mind is invisible nature even though nature be not verified 
by empirical methods as visible mind : that puts custom above 
bw and convention, and instinct, feeling, and impulse above 
both: thai is nut a cave of the winds, a hybrid of metaphysics 
and science ; that will be neither bastardized nor marooned by 
norosophs who would limit its scope and affect disappointment 
in its work either in the laboratory or with animals or children. 
Sccause it does not solve their scholastic problems — assuredly 
makes some havoc. Psychic is even more upsetting than bio- 
logical evolution, for it lies nearer to all human and practical 
interests. But it renders instant aid in education, science, and 
religion. It turns with profound interest to the past of the 
Jool, is not concerned chiefly with lUe future, and studies 
it^ embodied rather than its disemlxMlied life. Its cardinal 
principle is tiemo psychologus nisi biologtis. so inseparable arc 
Me and mind. It sees remarkable parallels between the present 
stile of the di'wiplines that now deal with mind and soul and 
Ihose which dealt with life just before Darwin, and anticipates 
from its work a similar period of debate, followed by an analo- 
psus new life in all these branches in the near future. As phys- 
ical nature could hardly be really taught before the develop- 
ment hypothesis, so psychic natures now so misrepresented can 
not be properly taught, or will at least then be far more effec- 
tively taught, and not only without the present mental wreck- 
age, but with vast moral and intellectual economies. It prefers 
a long program of har<l work yet to be done to a sense of coni- 
plicencj- in any present finalities. It appeals to the really young, 
uid would appreciate and meet adolescent needs rather than 
6Qi in sad insights wliich l>c!ong only to senescence, whether 
normal or precocious. It believes youth the golden age of life, 
the child the consummate flower of creation, and most of all 
things worthy of love, reverence, and study. It reganls educa- 
tion as man's chief problem, and the home, school, state, and 
di&rch valuable exactly in proportion as they serve it. When it 



finds tlie order of nature in teaching lost, often inverted, growth 
arrested, the ali-sided expansion it should bring restricted, it 
realizes that even pure science, including- those <Icparlinents 
that deal with mind, is not for Its own sake, but that it become^ 
pure precisely as it becomes useful in bringing a race to ever 
more complete maturity.' 

' Some huve nrged ihat every parent knows childhood nnd youth by instinct; 
but rhe soul is surely as complex as the body or ils diseases, which no pareni >l 
such pre[«n(ln lu undefMAnd. Others insist thiU (he genetic study of childhood H 
a popular and non-academic movemcm; and io it t>, both for good and (or evH, 
the lirai, hecaase it rebascs our tlcpartmcnt un brwidcr foundaiionK and mokes aX 
(eel B^ain the mag^neiic Uiiill i>( lotiching life attd th« perennial concerns of parcnb 
liuud; iiiicrc3ti (he puUic in reicflrch in a vital, pracrical way that has tdreailf 
yielded inauy bciiclits anil protniacc far more; d«'«lopK a Tnomeotum of new 
humariislic iniercM in the reminiscent that will shape and vivify the aca^lcnUc work 
of ilif foitirc ; and the laM, li«:auae its evils arc those incident to lusty infancy, and 
only growth cjin give it ever better methods and incraascd fadlities, It ma as in- 
dinpenMble, as in the day of the Refurmaiion, Co go outside the narrow limii'^ ui 
ovcT-iublimnted sy&iems to appeal to fresh, original sources in (he fWi-%oul and 
face the dan):crs of followers whtrc acal was tow unicmpcrcd by knowledge in lh< 
f.iith already rapidly justifyinj* ilsclf thai these would be soon left behind as rigon 
ous mciliods developed. Olher» have ohjccied that retinitis were crude masies d 
facts unsysicmaii7cd, uninicqircicd, unreasoned, and ihii wat in part true and i» 
cviiabLi^ al an c&rly stage nf >ueh a movemcuc, fur il was a new ore and th4 
tnethod of refinctneni hard (o learn, but the foundatiuni of a great structure ara 
already laid in some parts and in others well bej^n, inio which this maieriftl 
will be built, not, of course, without waste aud tiomt: refuse. One emincat 
psychologist declared to a Lar^e audience, with t;reiii applause, that hU childreq 
should be loved and never studied, for it was an injurious inierference with 
nature But h love !es» or greater if made inieiligcnt, and m&y, nay, ought, 
we not In study in order lo twsi serve and develop our children, and is not half 
our lesson to let alone and tiusi nature more and lo keep Chcm in this jiaroctiie at 
tinconKiousness ? Others &ay the adult mind is the psycholo[;isl's only Bible and 
oriu;te. for in it the human plant blossoms ; but very much is lost in Infancy thai 
never comes lo maturity, and these faclors are often vital for life, troim'ng, and 
science. Moreover, ihis aigutoent would rule out embryology and find everything 
needed in adult analotny. As was said of evolution, no otic wlio has studied pay* 
chogtncsis carefully and candidly has been unconvinced by it, if they have noC 
crossed the denil line of age. In our land and pcriinl of decreiisini; offspring, Ic 
has made chiMren rtiorc desired : it has given n new fniitful topic lo ihousands of 
cullUTC clubs of men, and especijiUy of women ; il has found a fnlci^m nnd placed ill 
lever under our educational system and an era uf transformation has already began; 
il hat already shed new li^ht on ilie orljfin and development of language, myth, 
and more yet of religion; and U now rapidly establishing Itself [n academic Itfs 
and work. The new danger thai now looms lu the paihw^ty is tEiai too much wiUJ 
be expected of it coo soon. Finally, some of thes« objections Involve views of 
childhood as false lo fact and as nirocious scientifically as was th« Catvlnistic doe* 
trine of lolal and innate mfanl depravity, morally and religiousty. 

Peelings and psyciuc evolctiom 


Back of all the determined facts of proportionate physical 
growth in the average boy or girl, so ricli, as we liavc secii, 
already in the quality of suggest iveness (the best of all indi- 
cjtions of a great future devcIopiHcnt of a subject) lies a mass 
ui nascent questions like the dim baby faces artists depict in 
the background of the nativity as a cloud of witnesses who are 
to people the earth in the future. How wiile is the range of 
cnJindual differences in the temporal order in which parts ap- 
pear and what are the (acts and laws of heterochrony; what 
influences cause the slow secular transpositions now going on 
in the race and individuals : why are females virified atid males 
foninized in their gerontic stages as the secondary rjualities of 
each were latent in the other but were suppressed during the 
reproductive period; what are the psychic units and subunits 
of variation each under the control of its own hypothetical 
determinant ; how shall we conceive the central principle which, 
despite ihe struggle of part against part for its food supply 
from the blood, preserves such harmony that (he development 
or arrest of each also acts as a stimulus to the development 
or arrest of others, so that, while the elements vary so inde- 
pendently, their growth is still so well correlated, coordinated, 
and subordinated with each oilier? Such problems can not be 
answered till we can compare, far more fully than we are now 
able to do, on a far broader basis of fact, with less diverse 
methods and less uncertain and contradictory results, growth 
of all the larger parts like those indicated in Oiapters I and II, 
lith the embryological and infantile changes in each rudimen- 
tary organ, especially of all the animal forms in man's pedigree, 
and also, as I believe, till we have a parallel embryology of the 
psyclie, now just l>eginning Its yet more significant develop- 
ment. The soul is as much, but i»o more, an organized unity 
than the body:. reflects the growth not of the brain alone, but 
of every part and organ ; has powers in every stage of nascency 
and decadence like it ; is now hindered and now forwarded by 
Cftry advance and regress of every organ, as organs themselves 
are, sometimes directly, sottietimes indirectly, always accord- 
ing to the fulness or scantiness of the tides of life. Both 
mind and body have the same haunting and persistent prob- 
lems concerning the relations of innatencss ami heredity versus 
en\*ironnient and individual experience. Pubert^v is not with- 



out analogues to birth ant! teething. lit each of these three" 
crises new structures come to the front. In adolescence, 
individuation is suddenly augmented and begins to sense 
its limits and its gra<Iual subordination to the race which 
the Kates prescribe. Each of these epochs is no whit less 
significant far the evolution of the soul in ways we must now 
lalxir to discover and delineate. It is no less profoundly 
sexed than the body. Its nature is no more absolute and un- 
changeable. It, too, is a mobilized and moving equilibrium. 
Much once central is now lapsed, submerged, instinctive, or 
even reflex, and much once latent and budding is now potent 
and in the focus of consciousness for our multiplex, com- 
pounded and recompounded personality. It is real progress 
in this direction that psychology has found a new center in the 
will, served by a motor apparatus that is seventy-two per cent 
of the body weight; that we have Just begun to peep beneath 
the tiireshold of conscioiisness. like toilers tliat have just real- 
ized that there is a mine of untold wealth beneath their factory 
which makes it and all its output of comparatively small value, 
full, as some stJtl deem the subconscious, of ghosts and shades 
of the departed. 

Especially in the study of sentiments and feelings to which 
experimental psychology is now tending and regarding as its 
next step, are the results of this Cartesian neglect of lower soul- 
types, paralleled by Herbart's degrading concept of feeling as 
the friction and detritus of mutually impinging ideas and of 
excessive introspection now apparent in the paucity or aridity 
of literature almost proverbial among students of childhood 
and adolescence. Are all forms of pain identical, or are there 
many pains; is pain a sensation itself or a form of sensation; 
is there a neutral state between pleasure and pain; are there 
pure states of feeling devoid of intellectual elements; is the 
Lange-james theory right or wrong — these are surds insolv- 
ablc by any conceivable crucial test. These problems isolate us 
in barren formulae, but charm disputativc, literary, speculative 
minds, make parties, attract the scholastic temper, but repel 
the investigator who is chiefly drawn to problems that in the 
present state of knowledge admit rather than preclude solu- 
tions. We seek nothing less than to raise new problems, find 
different methods of approach, and bring about a transvaluation 


gmcrally. and we hold lliat on many of the paints in the older 
rSgime of the soul, our simple data, even though often crude 
and meager, dispraised hy the studio psychologists as merely 
Jescriptivc, inductive, or observational, arc better data tlian all 
the books, ancient or contemporary, contain. They upset many 
theories and definitions, but have a!! the promise and potency 
of cnmulative facts and fresh problems, and suggest morning, 
and not evening', of finished work. 

There are other more genera! difficulties, now apparent, 
which beset the specific study of our emotional nature. First, 
in our day and civilization, the hot life of feeling is remote and 
decadent. CuUure represses, and intellect saps the root. The 
\<r)' word passion is becoming obsolete in psychological litera- 
ture, which on this subject elcmentarizes. repeats, is pedantic, 
or affectedly didactic. The life of feeling has its priine in 
>xiuth. and we are prematurely old and too often senile in heart. 
What does the psychologist of the study know of hate that 
makes men mad or bestial, of love that is not only uncalcutating 
but is stronger than life, of fear that shakes the pulses, and 
courage that faces death in its crudest forms unflinchingly, of 
the wager of battle where men fight beasts or each other with 
teeth and kntvcs and spitting revolvers, of torture, of joy that 
threatens sanity? Our sensibilities are refined, but our per- 
^>ective is narrow, our experiences serene and regular, we arc 
protected, our very philosophy as well as our religion sup- 
presses and looks with some contempt even upon enthusiasm 
in matters of the cold reason, ^^'e have experienced no soul- 
quaking reconstruction of our souls like Paul, .\ugustine, or 
Luther, we are anemic and more prone to deny than to believe. 
to speculate than to do. and we turn to novels and the theater 
for catharsis of our emotions. Our sentiments are oversub- 
tilized and sophisticated and reduced to puny reactions to music 
Uid appreciation of art that are nine ])arts criticism and one 
part apijrecialion. What we have felt is second-hand, bookish, 
shop-worn, and the heart is parched and bankrupt. We can 
hardly keep alive even the hearty and frank jealousies, aver- 
lions, and sym]>athies of our own divergent psychologic theo- 
ries, as if our deeper soul felt their inanity, and so the stagna- 
tiua tirat healthful controversies and polemics pre^'ent, slowly 



Happily for our craft, tlie child and youth appcnr at the 
truly psycliological nioineixt. freighted, as tliey are, body and 
soul, with reininiscenccs of what we were so fust losing. Tliey 
are ahandoiied lo joy. grief, passion, fear, and rage. They arc 
bashful, show off, weep, laugh, desire, are curious, eager, re- 
gret, and swell with passion, not knowing that these last two 
are especially outlawed by our guild. There is color in their 
souls, brilliant, livid, loud. Their hearts are yet young, fresh, 
arid in the golden age. Despite our lessening fecundity, our 
over-schooling, "city-fication," and spoiHng, the affectations 
we instil and the repressions we practise, they ,ire still the light 
and hope of the world especially to us, who would know more 
of the soul of man and would penetrate lo its deeper strata 
and study its origins. 

Back of them, too, lies the great animal world, where often 
each species seems essentially but a fecling-inslincl embodied, 
as tlie camivora's cruelty, the rabbit's timidity, or the peacock's 
ostentation. A true science of character that goes beyond 
eye, ear, and motor niindediiess, or activity and passivity, can 
not dispense with the deeper, older, and more fixed unary 
or binary or at most ternary compounds that were matured 
and compacted before man arose. In the new tentativcs in 
ethology also, it is already apparent that true types of char- 
acter can be determined only by studying the animal world; 
that man, e.g., inherits some of the aggressiveness of the car- 
ntvora and the timidity and deceit of creatures long preyed 
upon. Indeed, each animal group may represent some one 
quality in great excess, the high selective value of which made 
possible the development and survival of a species, genns, or 
group. It should not be forgotten that such psychological 
classification of psychic types may cross-section morphological 
divisions of species and genera. Each character type is thus 
a fulfilled possibilitv of ilevclopment in some specific direction, 
and in man is based on unconscious, instinctive, prehuman, or 
animal traits, the elements of which are combined into aggre- 
gates of greater or less cohesion according to age or persistence 
in time, etc. This, of course, must be supplemented, first, by a 
quite indeiJcndent study of the forms of degeneration : and. sec- 
ondly, of the marked traits and dispositions in normal persons; 
and when the conclusions from all three classes of data concur, 


we may infer that we have a trait of more or less typical vaUie. 
Individual psychology differs thus from comparative psychol- 
ogy chiefly in the fact that the former is concernetl witli slighter 
ajid more delicate variations, man's mode of adaptation t)eing 
finer and more specific. These general considerations, to be 
treated more fully elsewhere, are here adverted to only to 
explain the general psychoncanic law which assumes that we 
are influenced in our deeper, more temperamental dispositions 
by the life-habits and codes of conduct of we know not what 
imnumbered hosts of ancestors, which like a cloud of witnesses 
are present throughout our lives, and that our souls are eclio- 
chambers in which their whispers rcverlx;rate. 

Assumir^ thus that the feeling-instincts of wliatc\'cr name 
are the psychophores or l)earcrs of mental heredity in us, some 
of which persist below the threshold of consciousness through- 
out our lives, while others are made over as instincts or are 
transformed to habits into directions of the will more or less 
persistent, we thus cross-section old methods and can approach 
this study with a mental horizon vastly widened and with an 
historic sense less atrophied. We have to deal with the arche- 
ology of mind, with zones or strata which precede consciousness 
as we know it. compared to which even it, and especially cult- 
ured intellect, is an upstart novelty, with everywhere a fuller 
and clearer ex]>rcssion of a part of the soul, but always partial, 
one-sided, and more accidental and precarious. Both the degree 
and the direction of development of intellect vary more with 
age. sex. environment, etc.. and sharpen individuality, while 
the instinct-feelings in each person are broader, deeper, and 
more nearly comprehensive of the traits of the whole human 
race. It is in the latter alone that man is a microcosm, com- 
priang anything like the large totality of human experience. 
so that for it. and not for conscious mind, it can be said that 
nothing human or prehuman is alien. These radicals of man's 
psychic life, while some of them are decadent, mdimentary, 
and superseded, are often important just in proportion to the 
depth of the phylogenetic strata into which they strike their 
rriots. Hunger, love, pride, and many other instinctive feel- 
ing, to say nothing of pleasure :md pain, can he traced far 
down through the scale of vertebrate and to invertebrate life. 

It is plain, for these reasons, that they must be studied 



objectively and by careful observational metiiods, and that the 
genetic psychologist, while he must use introspection in tlie 
old way, or reenforced and perfected by expcritnentul methoils 
wherever they serve his puqiose, will find ii necessary, almost in 
exact proportion as his work becomes fiindamcnlal, to gather 
his data empirically from the comparative study of lower forms 
of life and of cliildren and from the collation of the varied inner 
and outer experiences of many minds besides his own. Thus 
the psychologist of the future, if his science is to have a future, 
must turn to the past, by which alone it can be judged, and if 
he would be prophetic and helpful must move more freely with 
a far larger command of data up and down the phyletic scale. 
Thus, too, our ideals of what the most perfect knowledge of 
any fact or object really is. are coming to be more and more 
genetic. We really know things only when we trace their de- 
velopment from the farthest beginning through all their stages 
to maximal maturity and decay. Thus we shall never truly 
know ourselves till we know the mind of animals, and most 
especially those in our line of descent. We must recognize that 
some of lliem arc our sui)eriors in certain respects; that while 
we explain them by explication of those traits wherein we excel, 
they no whit less explain us by those of their traits which are 
superior to ours and of which onr souls contain only rchcs; 
that if in general we are their realized entelechy, they are the 
key by which alone we can unlock many of the mysteries of our 
own origin and nature. 

Thus again the same revolution in the studies that deal with 
soul impends that von Baer and Darwin represented for the 
body. Before their day. everything was classification, nomen- 
clature, fixed species, just as with the pregenetic psycliologists 
everytliing was faculties and processes, analyses and categories, 
as if the adidt human mind, as we know it. were a fixed and 
settled tiling. From the new standpoint, the himian soul is one 
of many types of mind in the world. .'\t best it may \te a tran- 
sition from a lower to a higher race to be evolved later. It is 
perhaps a temporary and accidental form which force or life has 
taken on in the world. If it is like a species, a stage of evolu- 
tion, interrupted at a definite point, we can not truly know it 
until we have traced out all the roots and branches of the buried 
tree of its pedigree. We must study its changing phases histor- 



ically. Wc caii not know mind till we know minds. It is well 
nol eiHJrcly to forget that in the great cosmic order revealed 
to the evolutionist, the mind, which modern analysts so care- 
fully dissect, may he merely a developmental stage of that of 
ahigher type as much above us as wc are above the dwellers in 
Lemuria; that sometime even it may be studied as a hnk be- 
tween the higher and the lower, and that it may itself some 
day become a missing one. 

More summarily, then, the idea of soul we hold to is in its 
lower stages indistinguishable from that of life, and so far 
io a sense we revert to Aristotle in holding that any truly sci- 
entific psychology must l>e first of alt biological. Miiul is al- 
awst. possibly quite, coextensive with life, at least animal 
bie. Its most fundamental and primary expression may be 
characterized in Schopenhauer's phrase, the will to live. It can 
hardly be distinguished in rudimentary organisms from the 
nisus a tcrgo in its multiform manifestations which underlies 
growth, reproduction, and the struggle for survival generally. 
Soul is characterized by responses to the present environment 
tliai are exquisite, incessant, and all-sided, but is also pervaded 
by the more or less permanently registered traces of past re- 
jpooses which He far outside of and beyond our personal ex- 
perience. The first chapter of a scientific psychology, then, is 
metabolic and nutritive, and the first function of the soul is, as 
we saw in tlie chapter, in food-getting, assimilation, and 
dissimilation. Whether it be conceived as spiritual or subtly 
natural, it is related to soft protoplasmic parts, somewhat as 
ife^ arc to the hard parts preserved and studied In paleontol- 
ogy. Just as soft parts arc primary and shape hard parts, arc 
more vital, plastic, and also more retentive of impression, su 
soul is related to body generally. Conceptions of idioplasm, 
psychoplasm. germplasm as distinct from somatic elements, 
help us on toward more adequate soul concepts. Mind and life 
are one and inseparable. Soul is thus at Iwttom homogeneous 
and also continuous throughout the animal kingdom, the chief 
differences being in degree and proportion. There are as many 
tJTKs of mind as of body, and vice versa, and wc can tnily know 
ioul only through body, and conversely, can know body only 
through tlie soul. A brain without a mind is as impossible as 
a mind witliout a brain, every nonnal and pathological change 



in cither affecting the other. Whatever soul stuff may or may 
not be, it is most susceptible and responsive to all present influ- 
ences, and also, in a yet far deeper sense, most pervaded with 
reverberations from an immeasurable past. As Heraclttus says, 
" None can find the rools of soul, in such dcptlis does it hide." 
Consciousness and personality are far later, modal, attributive, 
and specific deteniiinations — irrelevant to a psychologia pritna. 

From this it follows that nnicli if not most soul is lost. 
With every extinct species of animal life a soul type also van- 
ished irrecoverably from the world, and as dead far outnumber 
living varieties, the great body of soul is irrecoverable by psy- 
chologists; thus the world of soul must remain fragmentary, 
and many faculties, traits, and genetic stages arc gone forever, 
Man can with great difficulty fonn any conception of how the 
world appeared to the majority of even existing animal types; 
what their senses were and could do; what perceptive elements 
Uicy were sensitized to; what their instincts and their organs 
were; iiow they reared their young, obtained their food, mated, 
fought their enemies, organized their societies, etc. Many of 
them are in our ]jedigrec, and we inherit the stored results of 
this experience, but of how it was stored up we know little. It 
is hard enough for us to understand, after generations of study, 
what photo<lermatism means as a form of sense, or how the 
world looks thrciugh the ant's nose, hand or odor-contact or- 
gans, and how much more inaccessible the psychromes of van- 
ished genera. 

It is just because we have thus come into possession of a 
vast and relatively sudden wealth, which we did not acquire, 
that the world often seems unreal to us and we try to validate 
it by strident and curious arguments which can never vicariate 
for the actual experiences we prate of, but which, vast as they 
were, must ever remain dim and unexplored, like a submerged 
continent once full of life, now only of buried secrets. Our 
own soul is full in all its parts of faint hints, rudimentary 
specters flitting for an instant at some moment of our indi- 
vidual life and then gone forever. dim and scarcely audible mur- 
murs of a great and prolonged life, hot. intense, richly dight 
with incident and detail that is no more; a slight automatism, 
perhaps, being the sole relic of the most central experiences 
of many generations, a fleeting fancy all that survives of ages 



of toil and blood, a feeling that only peeps out for a moment 
to infancy, tlic far-off dying echo of what was once the voice 
of a great multitude. Yet these psychophorcs. whatever they 
are, are wax to receive and marble to retain. Thus soul is truly 
tdepathic only to its own past, and thus these limitations are 
nearly every one of our remote psychic pedigree, or of the 
present, and never of a future state. The automatic or ancestral 
and the plastic and adaptive constantly interact and influence 
each other, the former predominating most in animals, but also 
profoundly influencing man. The former is somehow repre- 
sented in the tower, and the latter in the higher, brain levels, 
ihe sequence up the cord, medulla, basal ganglia, ccrebelliun be- 
ing a better picture of the real evolution of mind when we can 
read its meaning aright than tlie diainbercd nautilus gives us 
of its stages of growth. 

Many of these archcopsychisms penetrate at times up to 
consciousness. They pass up over we know not how many 
tliresholds and invade tlie adult mind. Even the soma itself 
is resonant in every cell, fiber, and reflex arc with these remi- 
mscences of extinct generations. Our souls are phyletic long 
before and far more than Ihey are individual. Each has, at 
least ideally, a capacity to comprehend much if not most of 
tlie experience of the race from the Ixrginning. but this experi- 
ence is dormant in us uidess brought out by objective life or 
observation. It is also the only reservoir and storehouse of 
introspection. But even our line of descent is restricted, and if 
we had all that our heredity could possibly bestow, we should be 
btrt specialized and partial beings. It is not inconceivable or 
even impossible that many a species that has become extinct 
took with it out of the world tlie promise and potency of a 
higher psychic development than that of man, but of a radically 
different type from liis. In the annelid or amphioxus stage 
there was little prontise of man who lias since sprung from it. 
Althoi^ tlie highest being tliat is, he is not perhaps the high- 
cstf or even among tlie highest, that might have lieen, to say 
nothing of what we know nothing of — what may be in other 
planets, or that will be on ours. The best and only key to truly 
explain mind in man is mind in the animals he has sprung from 
and in his own infancy, which so faintly recapitulates them; 
for about every property of the human mind is found in animal 



mind, as tliose of higher animals are Enund in the powei^ of 
the lower. 

Each species is a special set of reactions and adaptations to 
a certain envirnnmeiU and illustrates a moving equilibrium of 
forces. Now much that was in the past has quite lapsetl frcwn 
conscionsness, and therefore can only he studied in motor re- 
sponses and subconscious psychoses objectively, einpirically, 
and inductively, so that introspection, upon which so much of 
the philosophy of the past and present rests, is narrow, pro- 
vincial, and perhaps merely terminal, and possibly even in some 
sense degenerative. Thus observMion must supplement self- 
analysis, which is merely individual and now often even con- 
fessedly solipsistic and abortive. The conscious adult person 
is not a monad rcncciing the universe, but a fragment brokeit 
oflf and detached from the great world of soul, always maimed, 
definetl by special limitations, like, yet difTcrent, from all others, 
with some incommensurability parting it oflf as something 
unique, well fitted to illustrate some aspects and hopelessly un- 
able to exemplify or even know other regian.s in the cosmos 
of soul. The very self-consciousness that bums so intensely at 
some point, with attention often so obsessive, blinds us from 
seeing ilie larger rest of our selves. Not so much our birth, 
but every year of growth and e\'ery d^ree of mental illumina- 
tion, " is a forgetting " of preexisting states and involves a 
lapse of other sections and activities of soul, as it were, to 
lower meristic levels, of which augmented self-consciousness 
involves progressive ignorance. 

Mighest, narrowest, most apical, and mobile as a tongue 
of Hame is the attentive state of the present flitting moment, 
related to general personal mind a little as it to the impersonal 
phyletic, or as it again to general soul. Greatest in intent and 
least in extent, most foreground and least background, natural, 
sptMitancous attention, with all its special problems and all its 
marvelous, somatic. and psychic efTects, is often in form farthest 
of all from the depths wherein soul life began. It is most 
specialize<l and least germinal. Like the soma of highly special- 
ized organs, it is most ancillary and most in evidence, but is 
really valuable only as it serves psychoses, which it can no more 
see than the sun can see shadows. All psychology that starts 
or ends here is deciduous. The soul, as it conceives it, is not 



worth saving, althouji^li personal immortality, as we have seen, 
is often the dominant note in thought thus centered. Indeed, 
the salvation motive that in our day often becomes ahnost hys- 
terical is profoundly antiscientific, and the immortality proa- 
pectors that negleci the past are enemies of real knowledge or 
sound investigation in this field. The true researcher must be 
as indifferent to his own salvabitity as pure science is to crass 
otility or profit-making, or as the absolute moralist is to pleas- 
ure or pain here or hereafter. Till our science can cut entirely 
loose from every sotcriological influence and drop the future, 
which has its true place for study elsewhere, and turn to the 
past, it can not flourish. 

We can not believe that consciousness is even quite the ef- 
Borescence of the human plant. It may be a wart raistd by the 
sling of sin, a product of alienation or a remedial process. We 
have no warrant tliat natural selection or the law of the survival 
of the fittest determines what rises above the highest of the 
series of thresholds in mind. Consciousness seems in some of 
its aspects more likely a fall or a process of purgation so far as 
it is merely adaptive, and that which is best and survives is that 
which sinks deepest, beyond the test of recallahllity, and so be- 
comes most fundamental whether as mental act or organ. In 
lower forms of life, thought is motion, and later consciousness 
seems 10 develop inversely as movement. Feeling may be dc- 
spccialtzation, dissolution, and preliminary to evolution along 
new lines. The moving phantasmagoria of images and con- 
scious objects are not the chief facts of mind, as are the many- 
voiced corametits, the sense of assent and dissent, pleasure and 
pain, the illation of strength or the esthetic responses, the play 
of intuitions, the impulses to do or not to do. automatic ten- 
sions or contractions. These are not epi phenomenal, but 
noumenal in soul life, its palmary facts and experiences. 

Conscious life, too, in the best of us is pitifully unorganized 
and kxjse-jointed. and it differs perhaps most from the body 
in its fragmentary, incomplete, and heterogeneous nature. The 
sanest soul can not esca^^ many mild or incipient insanities, 
and the most vigorous bear many marks of degeneration. Since 
writing made permanent records possible, the mind has reared 
the sul.iimc structure of science, the greatest achievement of 
the sotU thus far, but a very few out of vast multitudes have 



done all the work, and any single individual, even tlie best, but 
a very small part. Marvelous as the brain is, we have probably 
yet learned but little how to use or control it, and are still in- 
fants of mind. As we know more of it, it seems built layer 
upon layer of parlly isolated yet strangely interacting strata. 
Very ancient hereditary tendencies often push up perhaps even 
into consciousness, or affect conduct as if striving to be relived 
and comjieting for the focus of attention or perhaps leading a 
submerged life in nearly faded automatisms. Layers are often 
reversed. Perhaps man acquired his massive brain largely in 
fighting the great reptiles and mammals of past ages, but now - 
in the individual it is developed verj' early in life, and so ^ 
reproduction, altliough phyletically It develops very early, 
is now in the individual almost the last power to be evolved 
to normal function. Some psychic elements arc liypcrlro- 
pliied and some latent and dumb. Tliere are suddi-n resur- 
gences of long-forgotten facts, and feelings and impulses of 
an immeasurable ])ast, while recent salient occurrences often 
appear to sink to fathomless oblivion. Other experiences 4 
and traits, that ought to lie less stable because later ac- " 
quired, are sometimes suddenly fixed like adamant with no 
apparent cause. Instead of the old classic unity, consciousness 
tends to break up into disparate personalities in each of us, and 
each mood rind time has its own association plexus and its own 
character. Dreams and narcotics shatter it or dts.'^olve it into 
nebulous clowls, anger and passion seize the rein and we arc 
demented and bestial for a time. W^iile. on the whole, nor- 
mal qualities usually have superior momentum and survival 
power, they may tjc choked and overcome by lush weeds of 
vice. Who that is honest and has true self-knowledge will not 
confess to recognizing in his ow^l soul the germs and possi- 
bilities of about cvcrj' crime, vice, insanity, superstition, and 
foliy in conduct he ever heard of? Taine thought every im- 
pression tended to burgeon to illusory or hallucinatory inten- 
sity, and that each was kept from doing so by collision with op- 
posite ones, and thus sometlitng like sanity is preserved by an 
equilibrium or balance between many lunacies. Barbaric and 
animal traits and instincts jostle and mix with each other in 
leaderlcss mobs of impression. Reason makes in everj* age 
errors almost as colossal as superstition with which it is often 




%Tined. In all this flux and cliaos, however, common sense, 
that knows and adjusts to facts and to the external world, and 
the sciences of nature are the two soiidcst of all foundations 
and are represented by the soundest and most firmly wovai 
brain texture ; if man can ever bring order into the rest 
of his cuittused psychic life it must lie by going t>ack to these 
and working uut and upward from theiii by observational 
methods in the inner as well as the outer world. 

Thus, in fine, the psyche is a quantum and direction of 
rital energ)'. the processes of which most need exploration and 
description, ordering and directing. By looking inward, we 
sec for the most part only the topmost twigs of the buried tree 
of mind. The real ego is a spark struck off from the central 
source of all Iieing, freighted with meanings that, could we 
interpret them, would give us the salient facts of its develop- 
ment history. Its essence is its processes of becoming. It is 
not a fixed, abiding thing, but grew out of antecedent soul 
states as different from its present forms as protoplasm is from 
the mature body. It tends to vary constantly and to depart 
indeTiiiitely from what it is at any given moment. Every ele- 
ment has shaped and tempere^l it. Its lung experience with 
light and darkness, day and night, lias fashioned its rhythm 
indelibly. Heat and oild. the llickering of Rame. smoke and 
a^es, especially since man learned the contnil of fire, have 
oriented it toward both thermal extremes. Cloud forms have 
almost create<I the imagination. Water and a long apprentice- 
ship to aquatics and arboreal life have left as plain and indelible 
marks upon the sou! as up<in the I)ody. Sky. stars, wind, 
storms, fetishism, flowers, animals, ancient battles, industries, 
occupations, and worship have polarized the soul to fear and 
affection, and created anger and pity. The superficial phe- 
oomCTia change, but all the deeper roots of the soul strike down 
and back to a past that long preceded history. The soul is thus 
a product of heredity. As such, it has been hamniere<l, molded, 
shocked, ami worked by the stern law of lalK>r and suffering 
into its present crude fonn. It is covered with scars and 
wounds not yet healed. It is stilt in the rough, and patch- 
worfcy. full of contradictions, although the most mar\'elous of 
afl the prodocls of nature. Where most e<Uicated and polished 
aXtmally^ it still has inner veins where barbaric and animal 



impulses are felt. Even- imlividual soul is marked by limiia- 
tions. defects, and arrests, often beside traits of marvelous 
beauty and virtue. None are complete, perfect, typical. Collec- 
tive soul, however, is a sensoriuni of wornlrous subtlety that re- 
flects in its mullipcrsonal facets most, perhaps alE, that lias been 
in the world. Our present quest is to detect some characteristic 
changes at that age of life when a certain group of powers 
emerges from the past ; when heredity is bestowing its latest 
and therefore highest gifts: when the mind is most exquisitely 
sensitize<i lo the asjiccts of nature and to social life, is repeat- 
ing most rapidly the later neopsychic stages of phylctic expe- 
riences, and laying on this foundation the corner-stones of a 
new and unique adult personality. 

These considerations must serve here to define the stand- 
point from which we now proceed to consider the more specific 
psychic changes which mark adolescence. We here face prob- 
lems both more complex and more inaccessible than those con- 
nected with tlie somatic changes. The most important and 
basal of these are connected with the fact that powers and facul- 
ties, essentially non-existent before, are now bom, and of all 
the older impulses and instincts some are rccnforced and 
greatly developed, while others are subordinated, so that new 
relations are established and the ^o finds a new center. In 
connection with the reproduction function, love is bom with all 
its attendant passions — jealousy, rivalry, and all the manifold 
phenomena of human courtship. All the previous religious 
sentiments are regenerated and some now arise for the first 
time, moti\-aling a wide plexus of new psychic relations be- 
tween the individual and the race, and irradiating to the 
cosmos. Nature is felt and plays upon the soul with atl its rich 
orchestra of influences. Art at this time may become an enthu- 
siasm and is now first deeply and truly felt, even though it had 
been known and practised before. The ethical life is immensely 
broadened and deepened, because now a far deeper possibility 
and sense of sin and impurity arises. The floodgates of hered- 
ity are thrown open again somewhat as in infancy. As in the 
prenatal and infant stage man hears from tiis remoter fore- 
bears back perliaps to primitive organisms, now the later and 
higher ancestry takes u]) the burden of the song of life, and the 




voices of our extinct and perhaps forgotten, and our later anil 
more human ancestrj*, are heard in the soul. Just as in the first 
binh ihe gi fts of nature are of fundamental psych o-])liy sic qual- 
ities, which are later elaborated and differentiated by develop- 
ment, so now her rich dotations are generic, and the accessory 
qualities lliat are unfolded out of them arise slowly from the 
feelings, instincts, impulses, dispositions, Anhiignt and Triebe, 
which are ihe products of this later heritage. 

In some respects, early adolescence is thus the infancy of 
man's higher nature, when he receives from the great all- 
mother his last capital of energj- and evolutiotury monienlum. 
Thus the child is fatlier of the man. far older and cunditiuning 
has nature. He is at the same lime reduced back to a stale of 
nature, so far as some of the highest faculties arc concerned, 
again helpless, in need not only of guidance but of shelter and 
protection. His knowledge of self is less adequate and he must 
slowly work out his salvation. Cliaracter. temperament, emo- 
tions, and appetites are changefl ; the youth moves alxjut in both 
an inner and an outer world unrealized. The parent and 
teacher must understand that mother nature has again taken 
her child upon her knee and must stand off a little to see and 
make room for her more perfect education. These years again, 
like infancy, should lie sacre<l to heredity, and we should have 
a good warrant indeed before we venture to Interfere witli its 

Psychic adolescence is heralded by all-sided mobilization. 
The child from nine to twelve is well adjusted to his environ- 
ment and pro(>ortionatcly developed ; he represents probably an 
old and relatively perfected stage of race- maturity, still In some 
sense and dt^ce feasible in warm climates, which, as we have 
pre^'iously urged, stands for a long-continuc<J one. a terminal 
stage of human development at some post-simian point. At 
tlawning adolescence this old unity and harmony with nature is 
broken up: the child is driven from liis paradise and must enter 
opon a long viaticum of ascent, must conquer a higher kingdom 
of man for himself, break out a new sphere, and evolve a more 
nwdem story to his psycho-physical nature. Because his en- 
vironment is to be far more coniplex. the combinations are less 
liable, the ascent less easy and secure : there is more danger that 



the youth in Iiis upward progress, under the influence of this 
"excelsior" motive, will backslide in one or several of the many 
ways possible. New dangers threaten on all sides. It is the 
most critical stage of life. I>ecause failure to mount almost al- 
ways means retrogression, degeneracy, or fait. One may be in 
all respects better or worse, but can never be the same. The 
old level is left forever. I'erhaps the niytli of Adam and 
Eden describe this epoch. The consciousness of childhood 
is molted, and a new. larger, better consciousness must be 
devetoped, or increased exposure and vulnerability will bring 
deterioration. Before this, Ixiys and girls have been inter- 
ested largely in those of their own age and have had little 
interest in their future or in tlie life of adidts. Their own life 
is too varied, intense, and absorbing. But the soul now realizes 
in a deeper sense the meaning of maturity and is protensive 
toward its higher pEatcau. Slowly the color and life fade from 
juvenile interests, which are deciduous like foliage or like milk 
teeth. Vocations beckon first faintly, and then more and more 
imperatively. Hero worship arises ; youth aspires to excel, first 
perhaps by llie order of tialure in athletic contests, then in those 
of the mind. The young savage can nut attain his new name or 
be initiated into adolescence until lie has shown prowess or won 
some fame as a doer of deeds, as. e.g., by killing some large 
animal or in successful head-hunting. It is perhaps on the 
athletic field that yonth has his first taste of gratified ambition 
and is fired thereby to constant discontent and SchnsuclU there- 
after. He longs to struggle, make an effort, combat, loves a 
hard and strenuous and scorns an easy life. The great deeds 
and lives and prizes in the himian world never shine so bright, 
seem so near, or l>eckon so alluringly. The youth wills all that 
he must or can ; would be wise, strong, famous, talented, 
learned, rich, loved, and withal good and perfect. WTien 
the thought of death forces its presence upon bis soul, though 
at first cast down, he reacts by immortal longings. The tran- 
scendental world opens before him; he dreams of an ideal 
future of the race or of a heaven where all bis wishes shall be 
realized in the glory of the world to be; and in these " vague 
snatches of Uranian antiphony," instead of its finding remi- 
niscences of the preexistent state of ibe soul, the more progres- 
sive Occidental world seesaiiticipations of a future immortality. 

:inc EvonmoN 

as it has taken its conceptions of paradise from the past where 
antiquity placed them, and reconstructed them and set them up 
in the future. 

This long pilgrimage of the soul from its old level to a 
higher maturity which adolescence recajHtulates must have 
taken place in the race in certain of its important lines long 
before the historic period, because its very nature seems to in- 
Tolve the destruclit)n of all its products and extinction of all 
records. Just as the well-matured adult, as is elsewhere shown, 
has utterly lost all traces and recollection of the perturbations 
of the storm and stress period, because they are so contradictory 
2nd mutually destructive and because feelings themselves can 
nol be well remembered, so the race must have gone through a 
long heat and ferment, of which consciousness, which best de- 
velops in stationary periods, was lost, partly because growth 
was so rapid. Incidents are never better remembered by the 
indindual. but they are never more transformed and changed, 
and just so the precious but often grotesque myths and It^ends 
of races, sacred to them but often meaningless to others, afford 
ibe only traces of ethnic adolescence which races retain. They 
are told about camp-fires, perhaps lalxiriously and allegorically 
imerpreted or developed into literary form with the same gusto 
with which the man recounts in ever more mythic form the 
roost vivid incidents his memory has rescued from the tunnoil 
of these years of transformation and reconstruction, when na- 
ture's first call is heard to go out from the home to some prom- 
ised land or career, to establish a new domicile for body and 
soul, and to be the progenitor of offspring of both, that to 
,ihc inflamed youthful heart seem like the stars of heaven in 

Youth loves intense states of mind and is passionately fond 
of excitement. Tranquil, mild enjoyments arc not its forte. 
The heart and arteries are. as we have seen, rapidly increasing 
in size, and perhaps heightened blood pressure is ncccssarj- to 
cause ttie expansion normal at this stage. Nutritive activities 
ace p-eatly increased ; the temperature of the body is probably 
atrifle higher. After its period of most rapid growth, the heart 
walls are a little weak, and peripheral circulation is liable to 
stight stagnation, so that in the interests of proper irrigation 



of the tissues after the vnscitlar growtli has begun, tension 
seems necessary. Altliotigh wc do not know precisely the rela- 
tion between blood pressure and the strong instinct to tingle 
and glow, some correlation may safely be postulated. It is the 
age of erectile diathesis, and tlie erethism that is now so in- 
creased in the se.xual parts is probably more or less so in nearly 
every organ and tissue. Tlie whole psycho-physic organism ts 
expanding, stretching out, and proper elasticity that relaxes 
and contracts and gives vaso-motor range is coordinated with 
the instinct for calenture or warming up, which is shown in 
phenomena of second breath in Irath physical and mental activ- 
ity. In savage life this period is marked by epochs of orgasm 
and carousal, which is perhaps one expression of nature's effort 
to secure a proper and reatly reflex range of elasticity in the 
circulatory apparatus. The " teens " are emotionally unstable 
and pathic. It is the age of natural inebriation without the 
need of intoxicants, which made Plato define youth as spiritual 
drimkcnncss. It is a natural impulse to experience hot and 
perfervid psychic states, and is characterized by emotionalism. 
This gives a sense of vitality and the hunger for more and 
fuller life. This desire to feel and to be very much alive, and 
the horror of inertness and apathy, is, as we saw in Chapter V, 
one of the chief features which incline youth lo intoxicants. 
Indeed, everything men strive for — fame, wealth, knowledge, 
power, love — are only specialized forma of the will to attain 
and to feel the maximum of vitality. Hence comes the pro- 
clivity to supertativeness, to high, lurid color and fast life, be- youth must have excitement, and if this be not at hand 
in the form of moral and intellectual enthusiasms, it is more 
prone, on the principle of kinetic cqiu'valents, to lie sought for in 
sex or in drink. Athletic enthusiasm, the disposition of high 
school and college youth to yell and paint the town, to taugh, 
become IxDistcrous and convivial, are better than sensuality and 
reduce temptation to it. Better that a few of the most promis- 
ing youlli should be maimed or even killed on the gridiron or 
in college rushes, or lose standing in their devotion to teams 
and to emotional culture, than that they should find excesses, 
some forms of which seem necessary now. in the lower life of 
sinful indulgence, which is so prone to stunt and arrest the 
precious last stages of growth in mind and body. More or less 



of this erethic diathesis is necessary and inevitable, and one of 
the cliief problems of etlucation is to prevent its lower forms 
and give it ever higher vents and fields. Interest in and devo- 
tion to all that is good, beautiful, and true is its loftiest ex- 
pression, but it is often best cultivated on a lower plane, to be 
applied later on the higher. 

We here see the instability and fluctuation now so charac- 
teristic. The emotions develop by contrast and reaction into 
the t>piKJsile. We will specify a few of its antithetic impulses 
iKiw SO marked. 

i.Therearehours,days,weeks,and perhaps months of over- 
energetic action. The young man trains with ardor; perhaps 
breaks a record ; sleep may be reduced ; he studies all night in 
a persistent cram: is swept away by some new fad; is exalted 
and hilarious and then reacts; is limp, languid, inert, indiffer- 
ent, fatigued, apathetic, sleepy, lary; feels the lack of motive 
pitwcr. and from ovcnvork and excessive cfltort, when be 
goaded himself to do or die, he relapses to a dull state of relax- 
ation and doubts whether an)*thing is really worth while in 
the world. Thus youth now is really and easily overworked; 
is never so fresh or more rested as when at the top of its condi- 
titm, but ver>- easily wearied and exhausted wiUi tlie languor 
due to overtraining. We have seen tliat early adolescent years 
are prune to be sickly, although the death rate is now lowest, 
and this is closely connected with the changes from overeffi- 
cicncy to low tension so frequent. Sometimes the stage of 
torpor comes first or pre<Iominates and causes friends to Ite 
anxious. Many great men, as wc saw in Chapter VITI, loitered 
in (heir development, dawdled in their work and sccmc<l 
to all about them entirely unpromising; but later woke up, 
went to work, made up for lost time, and outstripped their fel- 
lows. Tliese changes are perhaps in slight tlegree modified 
by weather, like moods, an<l have no doubt a physiological 
basis. Sumetimes it is as if anemia and hyperemia followed 
eadi other with extreme sloth and then almost convulsive activ- 
ity of motor centers. There are periods when one can (](i easily 
twice the ordinary task without fatigue. Girls of fifteen or 
sixteen woidd often like to sleep or rest a week, and seem in- 
capable of putting forth real ctfort, and then there are fevers 



of craving Iwrd and even disagreeable work. Many returns 
show that in the spring there is very often great loathing to 
exert one's self, but this is occasionally broken by hours, days, 
or even weeks of supernormal activity, when stints are not only 
completed, but extra and self-imposed tasks are done with alac- 
rity and satisfaction. Often there is a periodicity of activity in 
young men that suggests a monthly and sometimes a seasonal 
rhythm. The regular changes of day and night do not suffice, 
but this is complicated by some larger cycle of alternating re- 
cuperative and energetic periods of latent and patent, or inner 
and outer work. Tiiis, like so much else, suggests an atavistic 
trace of savage life, niore controlled by moon and tides and 
warm and cold seasons. Indeed, diurnal regularity of work, 
play, food, and sleep is a recent thing in the development -his- 
tory of man, is hard to establish, and in the vagrant, criminal, 
vicious, and pauper class is often never reached. But spells of 
overactivity, alicrnating with those of sluggishness and inert- 
ness, still seem in these years like neural echoes of ancient hunts 
and feasts, fasts and famines, migration and stagnation. Now 
at least nature pushes on her work of growth by alternation, 
now centering her energies upon function, now u(>on increase 
in size of organs, and perhaps by this method of economy at- 
tains a Itigher level than would l>e reached by too much poise, 
balance, and steadiness. It is as if the momentum of growth 
energies had to overcome obstacles at every point, by removing 
now this, now that hindrance, where if its energies had been 
applied to all simultaneously they would have been less efifec- 

2. Cosely connected with this are the oscillations between 
pleasure and pain— the two poles of life, its sovereign masters. 
The fluctuations of mood in children are rapid and incessant. 
Tears and laughter are hi close juxtaposition. Their emo- 
tional response^ to impressions are immetliate. They live in 
the present and reflect all its changes, and their feelings are 
little affected by the past or the future.' With the dawn of 
adolescence, the fluctuations are slower and often for a time 

1 Set Karl Jnsi : Die Gcfllhle des Frobsinnt und der Keit«rkcit und der Wcch. 
wl d«r .Siimmiing im (lirfntilhtlrbfTi dc* Kindcs. Jahrbuch des Vercina (. wis. 
i'cd., tito hi* GcfUhlklcbuu lick KiDdci. 






extreme, and recovery from elation and especially from 
rcssion is retailed. The [>ast. and still iuotk the future, is 
im-olved. and as Ihe mental life widens, either tendency act|uires 
more mcTneiitum. Youth can not be temperate, in the philo- 
sophical sense. Now it is prone to laughter, hearty and per- 
haps almost conNTjlsive, and is alandoned to pleasure, the field 
of which ought gradually to widen with perhaps the pain field, 
although more. There is gaiety, irrepressible levity, an euphoria 
that overflows in every absurd manifestation of excess of ani- 
mal spirits, that can not be represscfl, that danger and affliction, 
appeals to responsil>ility and to the future, can not daunt nor 
temper. To have a good time is felt to be an inalienable right. 
The joys of life are never felt with so keen a relish ; youth lives 
for pleasure, whether of an epicurean or an esthetic tj*pe. It 
must and ought to enjoy life without alloy. Kvcry day seems 
to bring passionate love of just being alivCj and the genius for 
extracting pleasure and gratification from everything is never 

But this, too, reacts into pain and disphona, as surely as the 
thesis of the Hegelian logic passes over to its antithesis. 
Young people weep and sigh, ihcy know not why; depressive 
»re almost as characteristic as expansive states of conscious- 
ness. Tlic sad Thanatopsis mood of gloom paints the world 
in black. Far-off anticipations of death come in a foreboding 
way, as it is dimly felt, though not realized, that life is not all 
joy and that the individual must he sulrardinated and eventually 
die. Hence statistics show, as we have seen, a strange rise in 
the percentage of suicides. Now there is gloom and anon spon- 
tuwons exuberance. In 766 of Lancaster's returns, thirteen 
bad thought seriously of suicide, although only three had suc- 
cessfully attempted it. Pcrliaps elation precedes and depres- 
sion comes as a reaction in the majority of cases, although this 
isncrt yet clear. Some feel despondent on .? wakening, at school 
time, or at noon, suggesting nutriitvc changes. " The curve of 
despondency starts at eleven, rises steadily and rapidly till fif- 
teen, culminates at seventeen, then falls steadily till twenty 
thfee." Young people are often unaccountably pleased with 
every trifle. TTiey can shout for joy from the very fact of 
being alive. The far-off destiny of senescence looms up, and 
in fatigue the alrabiliar psychic basis of pessimism clouds 



life for a time and brings into dominance a new set of 
asiiociations like another personality. Youth fears inade- 
quacy of its powers to cope with the world. How this ii 
connected with the alternating extremes of sexual tension, 
we have seen, ;iUhuugh this \>y no means explains all. Some- 
times the tears are froin no assignable cause, and often 
from factitious motives. Suspicion of being disliked by 
friends, of having faults of person or character that can not 
be overcome; tlie fancy of being a supposititious diild of tlieir 
parents, of having unwittingly caused calamity to others, of 
hopeless love; faihirc in s<_i]nc special effort; a sense of the 
necessity of a life of work and hardship — these bring moods 
that may be more or less extreme according to environment, 
heredity, temperament, and other causes, may succeed each 
other with greater or less frequency, and may threaten to issue 
in brooding, depression, and melancholy, or in a careless and 
bhnd instinct to live for the day; but these, too, are due to the 
fact that the range of pleasure and pain is increased, so tliat 
there are new motives to each, and perhaps a long period with 
occasional special dangers must elapse before a final adjust- 

This is (he age of giggling, especially with girls, who are 
at this stage of life farthest from Vassey's ' view that man is 
not originally a laughing animal and that the gentleman and 
lady should never laugh, but only smile. If convulsive laughter 
is an epilepsy, it is one that begins in the highest regions and 
passes down the meristic levels.^ Goethe well says, that noth- 
ing is more significant of men's character than what they find 
laughable. The adolescent perhaps is niost liilarious over cari- 
cature of nationalities, teachers, freshmen, the other sex, etc, 
who are mimicked, burlesqued, and satirized. Ridicule is now 
a powerful weapon of propriety. Again, the wit of the ephebos 
sometimes provokes a mental ticklishness about certain sacred 
and sometimes sexual topics, which may make jocularity and 
waggish]icss almost a plague. Another of the chief butts of 
adolescent fun is what is naive and unconscious; the blunders 

■ Tti« I'hilosnphy of Laoffhing and Smilmg. London, 1877. p. 194. 
■T!ic Piythology of Tickling, l-«tighing, ami the Uomic, t>y U. [lall tod th« 
l»te Arlboi Allii). Am. Jour. 9I Pny., Oiilober. 18^7, vol ix, pp. 1-41. 



of the greeny, tlie unsophisticated way not only of the fresh- 
man. but of the countryman, the emigrant, and the Bachhscit girl 
nmv abound, while the sitnple idea of disaster or misfortune, 
which constitutes the hnmor of nine-tenths of the professional 
joke-makers, is rare. The horror of old or even once-told jests 
is rvcvcr so intense, nor the apprcciatiun for novelty so keen. 

3. ScIf-fceUng is increased, and we have all degrees of ego- 
ism and all fonns of self-affirmation. The chief outcrop may 
be vanity and a sense of personal beauty and attractiveness, thai 
is felt to be stunning to the other sex. It may be expressed in 
swagger ways; thrusting one's self into conspicuous places; 
talking, acting, dressing, to attract notice; or in complacency 
and even conceit for supposed superiority over others. Impu- 
dence, aflfront, insult, and sometimes even physical aggressive- 
ness are forms of it. Growtli of mind and body is so rapid that 
it is felt to the point of overestimution. Self-feeling is fed by 
all the compliment and sweet flattery of affection, which Is the 
food often really tasted for the first time with true gusto, on 
which it shoots up with mushroom growth. The wisdom and 
advice of parents and teachers is overtopped, and in ruder na- 
ttires may he met by blank contradiction. It is all a new con- 
sciousness of altitude and the tlesire to lie, and to l>e takcii for, 
men and women; to be respected, consulted, and taken into 
confidence. Tlie new sense of .self may he so exquisitely deli- 
cate that a hundred things in the environment, that would ne\'er 
rankle before, now sting and irritate. This is sometimes ex- 
pressed in more or less conscious and formulated codes of 
liooor. which among youth is often a strange and wondrous 
ihii^ which must be defended by the wager of battle, with fists, 
or among German students with the sword, with all the punc- 
tilio of chivalry. Sometimes the formula: by which honor and 
self-respect may be gained, maintained, impaired, and restored 
are detailed. Courage, honesty, parents, especially the mother, 
and ixrhaps a sweetheart, are involved, and the youth must 
perhaps represent Iionor for two. Ideals are so high and the 
tnhuus lalxjr by which they are attained so constitutionally 
ignored that the goal seems very near and attainable if the pur- 
pi>se is high, so that the spirited, mettlesome ephebos or cadet 
summarily demands the world to take him on credit, as if the 
promise of his ambition were already fulfilled. The youth who 



has heeii amenable to advice and even suggestion, now becomes 
obstreperous, recalcitrant, filled with a spirit of opposition, and 
can not repress a sense of top-lofty superiority to the ways and 
persons of his environment. Age is often made to suffer dis- 
courtesy, and it somclinies seems as though the faculties of 
reverence and respect, to say nothing of admiration, were sud- 
denly gone. 

But the ebb of this tide is no less pronounced, and may pre- 
cede in time its flood. The same youth with all liis brazen 
effrontery may feel a distrust of self and a sinking of heart, 
which all his bravado is needed to bide. He doubts his own 
powers, is ]Jcrilously anxious alx>ut his future, his self-love Is 
wounded ami humiliated in iiniumerable ways keenly felt, per- 
haps at heart resented, but with a feeling uf imp-Xence to resist. 
The collapsing moods bring a sense of abasement and humil- 
iation, which sometimes seems like a degree of complacency 
to all that comes, suggesting spirit lessncss. Youlb often 
fears itself lacking in some essential trait of manhood or 
womanhood, or wanting the qualities of success. He is often 
vanquished in innumerable rivalries and comiictitions that now 
make so much of life, and loses heart and face. The world 
seems all the more hopeless because of the great demands which 
the opposite mnnd has imposed. Sometimes a sense of shame 
from purely imaginary causes is so poignant as to plunge the 
soul for a time into the deepest and mast doleful dumps: fancied 
slights suggest despair, and in place of wonted self-confidence 
there is a retiring bashfulness, which no coaxing or encourage- 
ment of friends can overcome or fathom, and which may ex- 
press itself only in some secret diary or perhaps in prayer. 
This, too, of course, often shades into elation and depression 
from moral causes. 

Youth, too, may become overfastidious and eflfeminate, 
and this may per\'ade toilet, manners, care for health, or even 
take the form of moral nicety, overscrupulousness, and casuis- 
try. Time was when the freshman was really green, awkward, 
inept in speech, without repose, but now too often the sub- 
freshman is a polished gentleman, confident and at home every- 
where, though happily often betraying in some respects the ear- 
marks of the native roughness which goes along with strength, 
in the midst of the overrcfinement, suggestive of weakness. 



4. Another clearly related alternation is that between 
selfishness and altruism. Before puberty, children are fed, 
clothed, sheltered, instructed, and done for, so that all the cur- 
rents in their cn%'ironnient, especially with parents who follow 
Froebcl's injunction to hve for their children, have flowed 
toward and converge in them. Now currents in the oppo- 
site direction arise and should normally gather strength until 
they predominate. Life is sacrifice, and in trite parlance, we 
really live for what we die for. Before, youth must he served ; 
now, it must serve. Its wants, perhaps even its whims, have 
been supreme, but in the matin song of iove the precepts of 
rcnundation are heard. Just as the embryonic cell grows large 
till it can no longer t>e nourished from without and must then 
divide or die, so the individual must be suliordinated to society 
and posterity. Life is no longer ego-centric, btit alt ro-cen trie. 
Politeness and courtesy, and respect for the feelings of others, 
are often hard at first, but are a scliool of minor morals grad- 
uating into that of the higher virtues. Sympathy, and especially 
love, wither the individual, until self-subordrnation mav be- 
come a passion. Yotith devotes himself, perhaps by a vow. to 
a lifetime of self-denial or painful servitude to some great 
cause, or a career in which some of the deepest of human in- 
stincts must be mortified and eradicated. He or she would go 
on missions: labor for the sick, ignorant, depraved, and de- 
fective classes: espouse great philanthropic causes, and very 
often practise in secret asceticisms in the common and hannless 
pleasures and comforts of life, in food, drink, steep, it may be, 
to the point of impairment of health, as if now glimpsing from 
afar the universal law which makes all individual good merely 
ancilbry to the welfare of the species. Self-sacrifice may lie ex- 
orbitant and vows gifts; humiliations are enthusiastic; selfish- 
ness seems mean; the ideal bocnmes a "pure life ruled by love 
akme" ; the unselfishness may sometimes come in streaks and is 
often secreted, young people giving food or sweetmeats, stay- 
ing at home to give others pleasure, without telling. Tliere is. 
on the one hand, increase of self-confidence, a sense that the 
indindual " is important enough to be noticed anywhere " ; but 
tliis is not incompatible with helping others as never before, and 
tv«n perfonning disagreeable tasks for them, associating witli 
the bad in order to make tlieni better, and greater readiness to 



give up any individual good. Our returns here show outcrops 
of the grossest selfishness and greediness side by side with a 
generosity and magnanimity rarely found in adult life save in 
poetrj' and romance. Others* rights of possession, food, and 
clothing sometimes are rudely trampled under foot, while the 
most delicate attentions and services, involving both fore- 
thought and hardship, are carried out to others or perhaps to 
the same persons. It seems as if expressions of extremdy 
puerile selfishness were now particularly prone to be compen- 
sated for by extremes of the opposite nature, and vice versa; 
that often those most tender and considerate, most prone to 
take pains» to prefer others' enjoyment to their own, and to 
renounce ease, abandon cherished plans, and conquer the 
strongest natural desires m doing this, were tliose most liable 
occasionally to fall lowest in gloating self-gratification at the 
expense of others.' 

Here, too, parents and teachers sometimes alternate between 
hope and despair for the young, before they slowly settle to 
fixed characteristics and conduct. Moreover, there is often ar- 
rest before the process of self-effacement is duly complete, so 
that we see in adults noble lives and acts veined with petty 
meannesses, which are the residual and unreduced organs of 

5. Oosely connected with the above arc the alternations 
between good and bad conduct generally. Perhaps at no time 
of life can goodness be so exotically pure and true, virtue so 
spotless, and good works spring from such a depth of good- 
will, which, since Kant, is often made the source of all real 
morality. Conscience, though not new-born, now can first be- 

* The ego, Fichle argued, created not only tt« own iconsciousncis bul the objec- 
tive world, aiid is iherrfore sovereign UuA of all. The scLf only exists, and all 
el»e, even other persons, arc {khnntasmic projections ol il, On this basii Max 
Stirner (Das loh und scin Eigenthum} lia»e» hi* monstrous clhics of absolute self- 
ishness. Each must get rvecy possible pleniute atid srck his own iiKRnLnditcment 
in every way. Funic, property, sense, and enjoyment must lie ilriven for l>y every 
tnouis thai can be successful, and all tdcai of morality, irnthfulness, duly, arc utier 
nullities evolved from ihc brain o( supcrinr tnilividunls in furtherance of this aim. 
Nieusche's "will lo power" is a no lc*« crans reversion to tlie egoism of savagery. 
Lust uf powet i« glorified la ihe point of tyranny ixnd (o the actual disparagement 
of tenderness and himianity. Whatever truth there i» in Chts view, it lias as betl 
(rat crop ID this age. 



gio to pfay a lefidiiig role. I( awakens with a longing hunger 
and thirst for rigliteousncss, prompts to highest aspimtion and 
resolve. Boievolence and love to all persons and all being is 
fresh from its original source, and there are hearty good wishes 
for the general and special weal of others and ingenuity in 
anticipating and gratifying their desires, so that for brief 
periods youth and maidens sometimes seem too good for this 

But we need have no fear. From the same soil in which 
these budding virtues spring and bloom so delicately arise rank 
weeds ; physical appetites are grossly indulged naively, even 
though they may sometimes seem almost bestial ; propensities to 
lie break out, perhaps irresistibly, for a time, .^nger slips its 
leash and wreaks havoc. Some petty and perhaps undreamed 
meanness surprises the onlooker. The common constraints of 
society are ruptured, or there are spasms of profanity; perhaps 
a sudden night of debauch, l>efore knowledge had put up proper 
defenses; perhaps some lapse from virtue, which seenis almost 
irretrievahle, hut which in fact should never be so readily par- 
doned and forgotten. The forces of sin and those of virtue 
never struggle so hotly for possession of the youthful soul. As 
statistics show, the age of most frequent conversions to true 
religion is precisely the years of the largest percentage of first 
oommitments lo houses of detention for crime. Now some new 
manifestations of vice surprise the soul in the midst of its ideal 
longings for absolute perfection, and wring it with grief and 
remorse. It seems a law of psychic development, that more or 
less evil must Iw done to unloose the higher powers of constraint 
and to practise them until they can keep down the baser in- 
stincts. The religious struggles of this stage bear abundant 
evidence to the violence of these storms and counter currents 
of which the human soul is now the arena. Temptations hitli- 
mo unk-nown to sins hitherto impossible bring redeeming 
agencies also new into action, and while the juvenile offender 
and the debauchee is arrested in his development and remains 
through life under the power of evil, growth is benign, and 
tltose who achieve normal maturity domesticate their baser in- 
stincts into the service of goodness. 

6. The same is true of the great group of social instincts, 
Kline of which rest upon the preceding. Youth is often bashful, 



retiring, in love with solitude; perliaps wanilers alone and com- 
nnmes with stars, sea, forest, animals : prefers nature to man ; 
loves midnig-ht walks ; shuns the face of nian, and especially the 
other sex; becomes interested in its own inner states and care- 
less of the objective while sunken in the subjective life. Some 
youth take to drink chiefly or solely to gain through it the 
courage to go into society. They know not how, or if they do 
so, find it hard to assert themselves sufficiently to do jtJstJcc to 
their ideas of their own merits. This is most common among 
country youth, but it is also frccjucnt enough in the city. Others 
spring into a new love of companionship; friendships are ce- 
mented : " mashes " and " crushes " occiir; the gregarious pas- 
sion vents itself in all kinds of convivial associations, in organi- 
zations of many kintls, sometimes in riotous bouts and carous- 
als ; sonic can never be alone and seem to ha-ve for a time no 
resources in themselves, but to he abjectly dependent for their 
happiness ii|)on their mates, Tliey lose indei>endence, and not 
only run. but think and feel, with the gang and the class. Alone, 
they are uninteresting and uninterested, but with others, viva- 
cious, lively, and entertaining. To the iimcr circle of their 
chosen associates they bare their inmost soul. There are no 
reserves or secrets, but a tove of confessional outpourings in 
intimate hours together or sometimes in letters, llie desire to 
please dominates some, and that to rule and lead, others; while 
the more passive and inert gradually lose t!ic power of indepen- 
dent action, thought, or impulse, and come into the settled hab- 
its of dependent henchmen and followers. The psychology of 
crowds show us how all human qualities arc krpt in counte- 
nance and developed, when like is paired with like ; how joys are 
doubled and pains divided; how respoiisibility is attenuated 
until the greatest outrages are perpetrated by masses, from 
which every individual would revolt. .Mternations between 
these two extremes of excessive or defective sociability are less 
frequent in the same individual, and if they occur, are at longer 

At times, young people feel that those who are liked fail to 
appreciate or even dislike them. They are repelled by society, 
feel sinful and lonely, and perhaps need a good cry. which quite 
relieves them. We find. too. admiration and contempt strangely 
mingletl; now appreciation, which almost becomes abject hero 


worship or fanaticism for great and new ideas, gusliiiig devo- 
tion to Iiterar>' and art products, etc., 1ml all altertialing with 
satire, burlesque, and parody, which seem to indicate that the 
power of reverence is lost and all the chann and modesty, which 
Plato found so becoming in youth, for a season quite extinct. 
TTiere is always a wide range of change Iwtween more 
and less before a center of gravity is found and a definite social 
character rstablished. Both, of course, are necessary, and there 
is much that is true in the Baconian adage, that character is 
perfected in solitude and talent In society. City life, the in- 
numerable clubs, business aggregations, sodalities, political and 
religious fraternization, seem a characteristic of this growingly 
urban age, and have no doubt perturbed the oscillations of the 
compass, so that it settles more slowly toward the pole of man's 
destiny than in other historic periods. \Vc have seen these 
phenomena unusually accented in the early lives of Savonarola, 
Newton. Shelley, Patrick Henry. I<.e;ils. Hawthorne, Gifford. 
Jeffries, Boyeson, Nanscn. and in the scores of our returns 
from men and women unknown to fame. 

7. Closely akin to this arc the changes from exquisite sen- 
utiveness to imperturljability and even apathy, hard-hearted- 
o«ss, and perhaps cruelty. Many youthful jnunlcrurs, callous 
to the sufferings of their victims, have had the kcwiest sym- 
pathy with pets and even with children. Most criminals are 
unfeeling and unhumane. They can not pity. an<l the sus- 
ceptibility to pathos is alien to them. The juvenile torturers 
often seem to have ."tpecialized psychic zones, where tenderness 
is excessive, as if to compensate for their defect. 'ITiey weep 
orer (he pain, actual or imaginary, of their pels, while utterly 
faordened to the normal .sentiments of kindness and help for 
suffering. The development of sympathy, as Sutherland has 
shown, ha.s Tteen stow and hard in the world, but it is Ijasal for 
most of the factors of morality. 

8. Curiosity and intercut are generally the first outcrop of 
intellectual ability. Youth Is normally greedy for knowledge, 
and tliat, not in one but in many directions. There is eagerness, 
«*t. enthusiasm, wliicli inspires corresponding activity to 
know lliai and only that which is of the highest worth. W^her- 
cvtr a new mine of great and fruitful discovery of truth is 
opened, a new field of activity appears, or new motives of self- 

^f LiBmi s,mm\i yi 



sacrifice arc made operative, there youth is In its clement. It 
is the ng-c of questioning, exploration, investigation, testing 
ideas, men, and the woild. Expectation h at its t^st and the 
impulse to be ready for any new occasion is at its strongest. 
Now first it is really felt tliat knowledge is power, and the 
noetic fever sonietinics becomes too hot for the cunve:)ience of 
others, for conventionality, the routine of life, or even for 

But the opposite is no less germane to these years. Here 
we find the inert moods and types, which are apathetic, whicli 
can not t>e profoundly stirred, that regard passionate mental 
interest as had form, and cuUivatc indiiTerence, that can nut 
and will not admire. No devoted teacher need attempt to arouse 
and fire the mind in this condition. Sometimes this is all an af- 
fectation, mental posing, provoketl by fashion or environment, 
and unconsciously imitative. Sometimes, alas! it is the direct 
result of excess, wliich snps the springs of life ami brings senes- 
cent inertia l>eforc its time. It may be a product of fatigue and 
reaction from excessive effort, as in the case of Stuart Mill. 
It is not pain or pessimism, although. If real, it is the raw 
material out of which the latter is made. To the ■wise adult 
this is always pathetic, for what is youth without enthusiasm? 
Tliese states always need wise diagnosis, because if they are 
recuperative, they should be let alone, and if results of dissipa- 
tion, they should be drastically treated. Institutions, especially 
the tone and traditions of colleges and high schools, differ 
widely in their prevailing atmosphere in this regard. Here, too, 
a considerable range is no doubt normal. 

9. Another vacillation is between knowing and doing. Now 
the life of the study charms, and the amliition is to be learned, 
bookish, or there is a passion to read. Perhaps there is a love 
of poetic iiiloxication or of contemplation, such as Scott, 
Bryant, Fulton. Franklin, Newton, etc., experienced. This 
afferent, more passive, receptive mood is necessary, because in 
the civilised state yoiuh always lives in the midst of a far 
higher culture than it could produce. But a reaction is almost 
always inevitable where this receptive passion is extreme, and 
soon either unconscious instinct or else purpose takes the youth 
out of doors, because he has fallen in love with nature, nr, it 
may be, to cultivate muscle. His tastes and plans turn to active 


ocmpoiion. He would achieve rather ilian learn. He feels 
sometimes, more or less unconsciously, the vanity of mere eru- 
dition, and wishes to storm the world of reahty and win his 
spurs, make his mark, and I>ecome an active and perhaps crea- 
U\t cause. 

lo. Less often we see one or more alternations between 
dominance by conser\'ative and by radical instincts. The young 
man finds the world out of joint and would reform the church, 
sdiool, perhaps social and family life; is sick at heart at the 
holkwness of established conventionality ; is fired at the tyranny 
of wealth or trusts, and would himself reconstr\ict hy doubting, 
casting out everything which does not seem to his own fledgling- 
intelligence good, true, and beautiful. Some do ami all ought 
to react from the parry of progress to that of order, from burn- 
ing the products of the past to worshiping them, to caring and 
working that no good already attained l^c lost ; they should at 
some period feel the force of conventionalities, the truth of 
highly saturated creeds, the value of established institutions. 
despite their possible betterment. There is especial danger that 
temperament or environment will tiestroy lliis balance and pre- 
cipitate the mind for life into one or another of lliese camps 
where extreme views are so easy and simple, and rniKlerate ones 
» hard and complex. This is especially seen in the religious 
sjrficre. lo which we shall turn later. The equipoise between 
itheism and bigotry is almost always disturbeil : there is excess 
of skepticism or of credulity, affirmation or denial, doubt or 
faith, and youth is especially prone to be distracted between 
the instincts that make the de\'otee and those that make the 

n. We find many cases of signal interest in which there 
is a distinct reciprocity between sense an^l intellect, as if each 
had its nascent period. We have already seen how the senses 
are aciiminate<1 and .sense interests modified and generally cn- 
harccrj, so that occasionally youth is passionately devoted to 
seeing and hearing new things, is all eye, ear. taste, and would 
widen the surface of contact with the external world to the 
maximum, as if laying in stock for future nieirta! elabc-iration; 
Imt there arc also periods of Inner absorption and meditation, 
when rcalitv fades and its very existence is questioned, when 
the elements that make the content of the sensory shoot to- 


gcthcr into new unities. The inner eye that sees larger corre- 
spondences in time and space is opened ; the bearings of familiar 
facts appear; wisdom is sought from Ixmks or friends, and is 
assimilated with amazing facility, so that a new consciousness 
is bom within or above the old, and the attention is attracted to 
inner states wliich demand explanation. It is as if the projec- 
tive system, which acts and reacts upon the external world, 
had now its innings, to be later followed by a period when the 
energy of psychic growth is largely turned to the associative 
fibers, Iwth ends of which are in the brain. 

12. Closely connected with this is the juxtaposition of 
wisdom and folly. Now there arc high intuitions that antici- 
pate maturity and even the best mental pro<Uicts of old age, 
an attitiide of mind that seems to have anticipate*! the experi- 
ences of a lifetime, and to have found rest in the true goal of 
wisdom. Yet, interspersed with all this precocious philosophy, 
we find pitfalls of collapsing and childish folly. This may be 
ethical, in the form of irritability, greed, causeless and irra- 
tional freakjshness anfl abandon to the lower impulses, or 
downright silliness. Those precocious in some are often ar- 
rested in other respects. 

Wc have already seen that body growth is not symmetrical, 
but to some extent the parts, functions, and organs grow in 
succession, so that the exact normal proportions of the body 
are temporarily lost, to be regained later on a new plan. The 
mind uow grows in like manner. It is as if the various quali- 
ties of soul were developed successively; as if the energy of 
growth now stretched out lo new tioundaries. now in this and 
now in thai direction. This is biological economy, as well as 
recapiUilalory. because in some way that we do not understand 
nature follows in the psychic field the fairtiliar mechanical prin- 
ciple we must so often appeal to by which power is best devel- 
opefl over a large surface, to be later l>est applied at a point. 
The human plant circumnutates in a wider and wider circle, 
and the endeavor should be to prevent it from prematurely 
finding a support, to prolong the period of variation to which 
this stage of life is sacred, and to prevent natural selection from 
confirming too soon, the slight advantage which any quality 
may temporarily have in this stni^le for existence among 



many faculties and tendencies witliin us. The educational ideal 
is now lo develop capacities in as many directions as jiossibU*, 
10 indulge caprice and velleily a little, to delay consistency (or 
a time, and let the diverse prepotencies struggle wiih each other. 
Xow evcrj'iliing psychic lends in its turn to be intense to the 
point of illusion or positive obsession, but nature's rlt}*ihm, i{ 
allowed to have its due course, prevents stagnation and hebe- 
lode, and the passion to change keeps all powers fluent and 
plastic, ifives elasticity and de\elop3 power of sanification. 
SofiKtimcs there seem almost to be dual or multiplex personal- 
ities. The venerable four temperaments of the phrenologists 
seem contemling with each other for dominance, but the soul 
should make some place for all of them in its many niausions. 
It is veritably like a batracliian, or insect struggling to get out 
of its last year's skin or cliitin, or like sloughing off tlie old con- 
sciousness of childhood for the new one of maturity. It is thus 
ifiat the soul explores the maxinmm area possible of human 
experience. This is now the meaning of the freedom of the 
will, and captious though it often seems, it is thus that the foun- 
dations of wise choices that first hear from all parts and parties 
are preformed. The mind 15 now in what the biologists call its 
gcneralircd form. It is as if man were polyphyletic in his ori- 
gin and now the different ethnic stocks were successively harked 
hack to. The possibility of variation in the soul is now at its 
height. Especially in races of mixetl blood, our returns con- 
vince me, tliat more prepotencies clash or coincide, as the case 
may be, and we can often detect the voices of our forebears 
&f very different races in the soul. Psychic life is thus for a 
term greatly perturbed. When the youth takes the helm of his 
own being, he navigates a choppy sea, Thus it would appear 
in oature's economy he must strive, fight, and storm his way up, 
if he would break into llic kingdom nf man. Here. too. mnny 
an impulse seeks expression, which seems strong for a time, 
but which will never be heard of later. Its function is to stimu- 
late the next higher power that can only thus be provoked to 
de%'elopment, in order to direct, repress, or supersede it. Never 
is it so true that nothing human is alien from each individual, 
IS in this fever of cphchcitts. which has so many peculiar fea- 
tures in the American temperament. 

The popular idea, that youth must have its fling, implies 



the need of greatly and sometimes suddenly widened liberty, 
which nevertheless needs careful supervision and wise direc- 
tion, from afar and by indirect methods. The forces of growth 
now strain to their uttermost against old restrictions. It is the 
age of bathmism, or most ra^jid variation, which is sometimes 
almost saltatory. Nearly every latency must be developed, or 
else some higlier power, tliat later tempers and coordinates it, 
lacks normal stimulus tu develop. Instead of the phenomena of 
alternate genei*ation, where certain potentialities lie dormant in 
one generation to appear in the ne.xt, we have corresponding 
psychic phenomena in one and the same imlividual by whidi 
faculties and impulses, which are denied legitimate expression 
during their nascent periods, break out well on tn adult life — ■ 
falsetto notes mingling with manly bass as strange puerilities. 
The chief end in view must now be to bring out all the poly- 
phonous harmonies of human nature. The in(lividu;il can never 
again expand his nature to so nearly compass the life of the 
species. The voices of extinct generations, sometimes still and 
small, sometimes strident and shrill, now reverberate, and 
psychic development is by leaps and bounds, of which psycho- 
logical science lias so far been able to know but very little. 

Mental unity comes later. Consistency then has its place. 
The supreme Aristotelian virtue of temperance and the golden 
mean — which is courage well poised l>etween timidity and foci- 
hardiness, lilwrality midway between the extremes of avarice 
and prodigality, modesty which combines the good and rejects 
the evil by excess of hashfulness and impuilence, self-respect 
which is neither vainglor>* nor self-nbasenieiit — slowly knits 
up the soul, coordinates its many elements, represses illusions, 
and issues in settled character. The logical as contrasted with 
the genetic ideal now arises and prompts to reason, consistency, 
and coordinations in ever higher associations as cosmos rises 
from chaos. We see over and over again that the met amorphic 
stages of early adolescence are forgotten, and how impossible it 
is for the mature mind to remember or even credit, when they 
are noted or told by others, the preceding phases of instinctive 
transfomiations. In one sense, youth loses ver>' much in be- 
coming adult. Tlie ordered, regular life of maturity involves 
necessarily more or less degeneration for simple tendencies. 
Indeed, the best definition of genius is intensified and pro- 



longed adolescence, to which excessive or premature systcm- 
atization is fatal. F.vcn in commonplace lives, higher qualities, 
and often the very highest, appear in the teens for a brief flit- 
ling momeni, or at least lhe>' larely hint their existence and 
then fade, sometimes because the demands of adwlthood are 
too early or too insistently enforced. 

This law of a period of freedom that leans a little toward 
license before the human colt Is haltered and broken to any of 
the harnesses of severe discipline, is favored by every aspect of 
the biononiic law. It is a fact of great significance not only 
unexplored but hitherto unnote<l. that even as the psychic per- 
turbations of this stage of multifarious impulsions are lost to 
recollection, because they are so inconsistent and blind, since 
they lack tlie intellectual factor of exi>crience. just so the phy- 
letic stages in the development of the race that correspond to 
puberty fall largely in tlie unhistoric period — the darkest of all 
dark ages, during which brute became man. Science explores 
the simian forms of life, but here our sense of ignorance is 
increasingly painful. The distribution of the gorilla is rapidJy 
narrowing toward early extinction, and we know far less of 
its characteristics, or those of the gibbon, ourang, and chim- 
panzee, than we do of the lowest races of men. The interval 
between the highest anthropoid brain of 550 cubic centimeters, 
iml that of the lowest man. 1.150 cubic centimeters, is almost 
as lost as a sunken Ailantls. If we take Canstadt man, per- 
haps the lowest in Europe, as the point of rcemergcnce of 
man's phylelic histor)% we find the most radical transforma- 

In the interval that separates the pithecoid from the trog- 
Indj-te. many changes, perhaps more momentous than any in the 
historic period, took place. Arboreal life and a diet of fruits. 
mis, anil buds was exchanged for a life well adjusted to fluvial 
and littoral conditions. The shore — the most clianging of all 
the life areas, the great feeding-ground of aquatic ami terres- 
trial forms, where all land animals originally cnrne from their 
Iffimordial home in the sea. after long amphibian apprentice- 
ship, and where the whale, seal, and other backsliders to aquatic 
life reverted after long experience on the land—had already 
beoi the hieiluvay of extended migration ; and man, especially if 
mooophylclic and if the qualities that gave him supremacy over 




the bnucs were developed in a single narrow area, hat! muhi- 
plieil rapidly : liad learned the useof fire and cooking, thus free- 
ing; energy, hitherto needed for digestion, to higher uses; had 
cnteml the paleoh'lhic stage of chipped stone for spear and ar- 
row heads: hnd asserted his dominion over the mnmmoth, cave- 
bear, hj-ena. woolly rhinoceros, Irish elk; had invented himself 
with the frccdcMn of the world ; had heconie the most migratory 
of iill species, thus favoring ampliimixis and variation by cx- 
Ognmy, and knew no harrier because only man stops man. He 
had been forcc<I from some primitive home or cunabitla. perhaps 
by the slow Kiibiiicrgencc of Sclaler's Lcnmria, or driven from 
his pristine habitat on the high table-lands north of the Hima- 
layas, and had already l)egim his career over the globe. During 
this jwriod many of ihe scores of domestic animals had beeti 
(aincil — jwrhaps mostly, as O.T.Mason thinks— by women who 
bt^un pastoral life. Many of the two hundred and forty-nine 
HMctra of plants of which de CandoUe traces the history — all 
unanwoganions — were brought under culture also perhaps first 
by wou*ni, and thus settled agricultural life had been intro- 
OWi'd The hand had been developed miicli in structure, and 
Ittr »ih*iv iu function, from a simple prehensile organ to a tool 
Jiiul \Vf«p«Hi user and even maker. Dress had evolved, a mo- 
MK-mv^u change had come about by focusing development upon 
Mfll.»i!tncc ns soon as its high survival and selective value made 
iVwtf (vlt. lenving the htxly relatively unchanged while mind 
»vi)ivv«l frtonmnisly, if "ot disproportionately, like the giraffe's 
im'V InUitcy Iiad been prolonged, and. with it. parental care, 
Kkv«i H«d home, and the possibilities of education unfolded. 
)i|4^'h »i»l li'adilion had been acquired. From this point all 
U (rl'Htvrly wsy of explanation, for as Lyetl said, if all but one 
»m^ of men in n single spot of the globe were exterminated, 
*twy \v*t«ld «i'on jwople the earth again though they were as low 
^t i' f 'nno or South Sea Islander. Perhaps primitive man 

l^t.i V grown to gigantic stature, as Principal Dawson 

V\4^Wt'ltirf«, and did and dared at sea. in hunting, and in cruss- 
U\K Iwirrirrs. that which modern man would not. Perhaps he 
\\rt» n piK<'*<'i«l •''s the horse has grown from the orobippus of 
(»v.\ fciw: perhaps he was Broca's estromeliaii, half monster and 
HkW mnu; or more akin to Lombroso's degenerate mattoid. or 
lO Sciut'> honiinidx. Perhaps i^lcK it clue's conjecture that 



fairies were primitive dwarfs or mid-men is valuable; it is in 
line with the wide-spread superstition that arrow-heads are 
fairy darts. He may have been pliocene, diluvial, or even 

My own belief, as I have set forth elsewhere," is that man 
early became the wanderer and the cxtcmiinator par excellence. 
Less than any other animal, can man tolerate rivals in the 
struggle for existence. The instinct which impelled him to 
exterminate the North sea-cow in 1767, and, in the nineteenth 
cenlur)', the great awk in 1840, the African quagga in 1870, 
xnd scores of other animals and birds that in recent times have 
gwnc forever even beyond the reach of the collector, that is now 
rapidly reducing to the vanishing point tlic American bison, 
the Indian lion and rhinoceros, the walrus, the zebra-giraffe, 
halibut, oyster, lobster, etc.. and that prepares and sells the skins 
of two million birds a year, which are dying out that man may 
have food, safely, or spurt, is the same instinct which in pre- 
historic limes destroyed chidly or with aid of other causes the 
pi;antic extinct mammals, and has forever scarred m^n's soul 
with fear, anger, and wanton cruelty. The same enmity against 
the lower races, wliich in our day has exterminateti forever the 
Boethuks, the Tasmanians, and is reducing so many lower 
hmnan ethnic stocks to make way for favored races, is but a 
rdic of the rage which extcmiinatcd the missing links and 
made n»an for ages the passionate destroyer of his own pedi- 
gree, so lliat no trace of it is left. 

A great number of the phyletic corollates of some of the 
most marked stages by which prepuhescent boyhood passes to 
maturity exist only in the later phases of this transition fr6m 
uitbropoid to savage life, altliough many are found earlier and 
others later yet. To much in tliis dark inten'al early adoles- 
cence is the only key. hut even here the record is so distorted, 
falsified, so often inverted, so mingled with what belongs to 
later phases, that we know as yet but little how to use this key. 
To-day youth is passed in an environment nt culture, nearly 
every element of which is far superior to anything that it cotdd 
produce. The powers of imitation and appropriation are so 



devcloperl and perhaps hypcrtrophicd that it is impossible to 
distinguish what comes from indigenous and what from ac- 
quired sources. The past and future contend with each otlier 
for mastery. In his elegiac moods, youth seems to long for a 
lost idea in a way that suggests transmigration of a Platonic 
Wordsworthian type, as plants dream of the sun, and on the 
other hand, his esthetic sensibilities are presentiments of a 
superior stage of the race that will develop out of the present 
human type which it is the function of art to prophesy and 
anticipate. The processes last lo be attained are least assured 
by heretlity and most dependent upon individual effort, in aid of 
which nature gives only propulsion, often less define<i the later 
it can be acquired, like the Kantian pure autonomous " might- 
ness," which the individual must laboriously shape by a wise 
use of hetcronirTnous and consciously regulated motives. While 
adolescence is the great revealer of the past of the race, its 
earlier stages must be ever surer and safer and the later possi- 
bilities ever greater and more prolonged, for it, and not 
maturity as now defined, is tlic only point of departure for the 
superanthropoid that man is to become. This can be only by an 
ever higher adolescence lifting him to a plane related to his 
present maturity as tliat is lo the well-adjusted stage of boy- 
hood where our puberty now begins its regenerating metamor- 



Tbyiicd «eI(-cnnM:ii>nsne«s— Naclity in hmory and its peilagogy— Exriy phalliciim 
■nd tbe reactions agAtnU it— Sex and mental growth — ReUlicjn* between the 
child and the race^Evolaiiouary >ta)[ei of Mcundary tea tjualilin — Morbid* 
ides ttt lhi> instinct — [nutlecjuate troLtment ut the topic — Aomul and priini- 
tive human coaixMp — 7'he dotoinani iiiilaence of the (eniBle — Common love 
fnbbn in the young — IIii;lily specialii«d points o( allraction anrf repulsion 
between ih« sexes — Coquetry — Convention and sugj{*Mivenc*» — Relation of 
love (o man, deattb. esthelict, music, and religion — Court thip— KItoI lalling in 
lore— III power to sensili/e the soul lo nature — I'sychological iiate« nnd 
meOphoTb— I.ove as leUled to interests and acbievemcnln and to fricod!iht|^— 
Its irradiations to children, the comtnuniiy and humanity — Knowledge as a 
form of love— ClaMificatioa of theories — L«s»ons for education and morality. 

In ihc child's slowly progressive knowledge of its own 
body, hands, fingers, mouth, feet, toes, ears. eyes, hair, and nose, 
in about this order, secni to be especially noticed or attended to 
with interest each at its own period before the sex parts, which 
in children normally reared attract little attention in early 
years. But in infants, these organs may verj- early become the 
sea of knismogenic (A'kijhioj^^ tickling) sensations, and a 
little later in early boyhood the least allusion to then: is ex- 
tremely geiogenic (gf/w ^ laughter). These experiences are 
different from the tickle feeling aroused by contact with other 
(OTts of the body or by other humorous suggestions, and may 
be infantile rudiment front which, if we knew more of genetic 
p^fchology, we could trace the evolution of the whole sym- 
phony of sexual feelings and acts.' Young children sometimes 
become so exquisitely sensitized th^t the remotest hint or sug- 
gestion, act, or indication without contact, is sufficient to pro- 
duce convulsions of often suppressed laughter. Even after 
adolescence there is a strange rapport and perhaps some kinetic 
equivalence between giggling and sexual psychoses; more 



probably, however, giggling is due to atavism or to arrest. 
It would almost seem in infancy that these sensations are re- 
lated to those of adult sexual activity somewhat as the organs 
of the infant arc to those of the man. laughter and tears are 
as primal and generic as pleasure and pain, the sovereign mas- 
ters of hnniaii life, and in hysteria sometimes seem to function 
not only alternately but vicariously. 

I. The unconsciousness of the normal child makes it, 
though naked, not ashamed. It has no private parts, and its 
consciousness is in this respect not unlike that of animals. 
Many have praised this pristine Adamic innocence, and some 
have even thought it desirable to preserve it as long as possible. 
'Hie Sjxirtans required their youth not only to e.\ercise publicly 
thus and even in the presence of the other sex, but compelled 
them to show themselves every si.x weeks to the Ephors that 
they might satisfy themselves, by inspection, of their purity and 
general vigor, it has been suggested that this makes directly 
for virtue, and so eminent an anthropologist as Angus has 
urged thai. other things being equal, the more naked savages are 
the more moral they are found to be. The state of the organs 
to some extent reveals vice, which clothing conceals. Diogenes 
and the cynics may or may not have had this m mind in their 
exposures and in performing all acts usually concealed in pub- 
lic The Spartan ideal evidently was that exposure made for 
hcallhfulncss in these parts, and that heat and cold, wind and 
wenthcr. tempered virtue, while covering not only concealed 
the immediate effects of vice, but both its warmth and its fric- 
tion Iciulcd to provoke it. Strikingly akin to the effects of 
more or less nudity or dress are the effects of the wider 
or narrower range of reserve in speech, which the fashions 
of different ages and races prescribe with such accuracy. 
VVlicii we reflect that just whatever area of topics parents 
and adults shun is instinctively counted vile by children and 
become* a psychic zone of prudery, which curiosity ever at- 
lemptl to invade and motlesty to avoid, we can realize how 
Ktrnng n case might be made out, providwl man lived in warm 
cliinntCH. in primitive conditions, in the country, etc., for nake<l- 
iic*» and plainness of speech, and how well this might comport 
wtlh an ideal state of innocence, which, if it ever existed, is 
now foicvcr gone. As a psycho-pedagogic theory, a reversion- 



iry goal or term, or as an even possible reminiscence of the 
race, this conceplloii is a precious clement in man's spiritual 
idealization of his own life. 

11. The dawn of adolescence is marked by a special con- 
sdousness of sex. Young people are psychologically in the con- 
dition of Adam and Eve when they first knew they were naked. 
There is a special kind of sex shame hitherto unknown. This 
access of modesty is a favorite and theoretically fascinating 
ihcmc for genetic psychology. It supplies one of the powerful 
motives for dress. The reason of this instinct is not all to be 
sought in convention, but one of its motives sc<:ms to be a part 
of the impulse to round out and command one's own personal- 
it)-, and also to enlarge it. which is analogous to Lotzc's theory 
that clothes are to extend the limits of self and make the wearer 
feel himself to the extremity of every feather, skirt, ribbon, hat, 
and even cane. The new sensitiveness of these organs, which 
makes them so acutely responsive to psychic states which their 
condition reveals, is also involved. But we have much reason 
to assume that in a state of nature there is a certain instinctive 
pride and ostentation that accompanies the new local develop- 
ment I think it will be found that exhibitionists are usually 
those who have excessive growth here, and that much that 
modem society stigmatizes as obscene is at bottom more or 
less spontaneous and perhaps in some cases not abnormal. 
Dr. Scerley tells me he has never examined a yoving man 
largely developed who had the usual strong instinctive teeid- 
ency of modesty to cover himself with his hand, but he finds 
this instinct general with those whose development is less than 
the average. 

My distinguished teacher, l.udwig, the leading physiolo- 
gist of his time, once told me that he thought that for some 
years about nine-tenths of the psychic processes of adolescents 
centered in sex and its functions, if we give the latter a broad 
interpretation. However excessive this estimate may be, there 
ii an intense natural curiosit)' and possibly sometimes a faint 
recrudescence of the sentiment ascribed to the c>-nics that it is 
a bad sign to cover, and that exposure is a sign of honesty as 
well as of purity. The virtuous man strips well if necessary. 
Kid does not blush. The literature on sex abounds in cases 
not only of virtuous young men, but even women, who rather 





glory in occasions when they can display the Ijeanty of their 
forms without reserve, not only to themselves and to loved 
ones, bill c\cii to others with proper pretexts. Medical experi- 
ence, art school, and gj-mnasia abound in such instances, and 
there are still other fields of evidence that where the common 
reserves of concealment have once been broken down, there is 
a sort of wild and perhaps atavistic ecstasy in exposure. In 
many primitive religions it has been an act of worship to glory 
in what society deems shame, and many a youth and even 
maiden, from the Spartan days down, often under elalx>rately 
ritualized conditions, have stripped lui majorcm Dei ghriam. 
God sees tlirough all disguises, and hence unclothing is a sym- 
bol of successfidly challenging divine inspection. Moreover, 
not only malicious rumor and libel may be defied, for vice seeks 
concealment, but in many times and places it has been thought 
a bad sign to keep the body too persistently covered. Disrob- 
ing has been tlic cUmax of many a romance, defied many an 
enemy, vindicated the innocence of many a suspected or accused 
person. TertuIHan prayed in substance that his soul and body 
might stand forth naked, stripped of every rag of disguise be- 
fore God and man. It is a hard and high principle, alien to 
most civilizations of history, but on occasions of great crnprisc, 
of oath or solemn vow. in limes of national calamity, or as the 
most spermatic ritual of prayer, man may attest the profundity 
of his sincerity and faith, and woman may offer herself in the 
arena as a martyr and liecome a sacrifice fit for the altar of the 
gods and make this reversion to pristine iiuioceiicc sublime. It 
is a talisman of wondrous power with gods and men.' 

It is a lamentable fact that most of the writers on phallicism 
— Jennings, Inman, h'orlong. Rocco. Westorp, Howard, 

1 The rtory of Ijiily Go<liv«, Dr. A. F- Chanil>cr3juii leUs mn, has Dential xnd 
Hln<]u [)«i»lleU ((!uinmv; Ethnology nnil Folk-I^nre, p. 38 et irg.\ Wilnrcs al&o 
Grunm'i MSrchtn oi the Sim DallBrs. Mitittnntl'K Scienc* ol Fairy Ta!e», p. 71 
tt ttif. .\ii cxpciicni:e of my own rndeil in cnmplcic tirxlrcsN ami n rank tens* of 
freedum and lighlni.'ss. (My Karly Memurici. I'cct Sem., ro-l. vi, p. 504.} 
Papuans " liloif)' in thcif nudriictfi and consiJrr ctultting fit only (or women." 
(WwKmiarck : HiMory •>( Human Marriaye, p. iiR // «^.> Reclus (Friinitive 
Folk, pp. gt, %ii) describe* nudity in reliKiius riles, and PIokk, itt ccrvrnnnial dm 
U a loTe eharni (Pas Wcih, vol. i, p. jja). Nakedness {>. |>robably, as Sctiurtz 
Myi (Phtlusophie dcr Trachi, p .(8), mnro often a icvetsion than the survival of s 
primitiw Biaic, aUhoogh it may lometimu be the lall«r. 



light, and many others — seem to lack greatly cither in learn- 
ing or the critical spirit and moderation of science, or l>oth : but 
this fact is rather a result of the long taboo that has been placed 
upon this subject than an indication that it is either less vast 
or less important than these writers claim. None can doubt 
that Phallos and Klcls, or Linga and Yoni, and tlicir emblea»s 
under maiiy a name and in many forms, have been widely, if 
Dot almost universally, worshiped at some stage of the devel- 
opment of our race, and that Lares and Penates, El and Jah, 
Astarte and Ashtaroth, Baal and Peor, Istar and Libissa, Isis 
and Osiris, Lira and Kali, and perhaps many other gods and 
goddesses, have phalhc features or traits in their cult. L. Gu- 
lick ' has popularly summetl up the evidence tliat Judaism owed 
many of its chief traits to the long struggle with the phallic 
religion of Canaan to which its adherents were so prone to 
iapse, and Buckley * has epitomized its status in modern Japan. 
The fact that in all primitive languages gender plays so im- 
portant a role, and that most objects arc sexcd, makes even the 
contention that not only the symboh'c khthns and the sun, but 
perhaps many ancient monoliths and towers from Bal)el down 
to the caduceus, and it may \xi the cross, are un<lersto(xl as 
male; and the moon, the golden Jleece. Dante's mystic rose of 
dawn, t!ie Grail, and many a cave and vase, female organs. 
Moreover, one need not be verseil in the occult, gnostic, sibyl- 
Kne. Ort^Jc. Rosicrucian, or other recondite and esoteric mys- 
ttries, to understand that the gem in the lotus, the serpent, the 
marriage of heaven and earth, and many a roun<l tnble or sacra- 
mental mystery, may be t>-pical of the function of the Teutonic 
goddess. Frigga.* We have in the Oiristian doctrine of love, 
and of the spermatic logos, in the Platonic stages of eroticism 
in the symposium, abundant evidence that the race has had a 
sexual consciousness more all-dnminating and pervasive than 
now appears, and many a conception in nearly if not quite all 

' A series oi artklcs in the Acsociation Outlook, igoi. 

'Phallidun in Japan. Pistcitation. Univertity of Clilcago, iftq^. 

'Cnthtng, speaking of (lie ZuJlii (First National Congress of Mothers, p. 41), 
iiyir "They »ror*hip the mo and Ihe moon, earth, and t!ie phenomena of ihc 
■mat pcrtonilied chiefly in relation lo Tcproductivity anrl growth. In othrr 
•wdk (bese [wople are uxolled pha.1Iic worshipers, but a far belter name foi thii 
Uad of worship would be mother •worshipers. I hftvc scxnl patience with those 



religions, primitive, ethnic, or Christian, shews many traces of 
having been slowly sublimated and refined out of tlicse bases. 
Perhaps this phanerogamic stage had much to do in making 
man an aberrant type, but certainly transcendental phaUicism is 
one of tlie great — if not the greatest— achievements of the 

Both ancient muthos and logos are full of this element, and 
the recognition of thts fact gives tis a key of magic power to 
unlock many of the most abstruse mysteries of life, creed, and 
of cuU. The power of this factor to extend its subtle connota- 
tions afar and to keep alive many a rite and faith that seemed 
to have no raison d'etre; to work its mystic charm through 
many a sphere of influence where it is not suspected; to speak 
with a subtle voice that is heard tlirough many ages, so that its 
fainter accents are not easily lost — when all this is understood, 
we shall be able to extend some charity even to the many writers 
like the above, often accused of illustrating a strange tendency 
to go crazy when sex is spoken of, and perhaps even condone 
many such errors and crudities of all who have attained true 
biological insight into human life. Indeed, for one, the more 
I read, ponder, lecture, and know life, especially among adoles- 
cents, whose lives are such an open sesame to the history of the 
race, the more natural it seems to expect that the vaticinations 
of these sex-intoxicpted mystics shnuld be not more, but less, 
than (he actual historic trutli. Poetry ahnnnds in archaic sym- 
bolisms that suggest it; etymologies are steeped in it; it supplies 
a long-sought missing link in psychogenesis; it shows forth the 
work of religion in the world as even more sublime an<l majes- 
tic than any of its devotees have ever dreamed ; it furnishes the 
simple solution of many a problem of life and mind, and re- 
veals how entirely the burden of the Bible has sprung from 
the very heart of man's deepest nature and his direst need. 

III. Having had its career and done its work first where il 

of our race who ilenoiinc«, on the mere Dolion thai its nwnc conveys, this religion 
of rcprrxlactioii, fur in reality, aliht>ii[>h one of the cnrHeti, it is crrtninly ftlio ona 
of the 1110*1 beautiful of the religions of mankind. We hear mticli alujut senmoMty 
antl indecency lu conneclc<l with lh« cercmnriials of ihi< worship, but. IwUcvt me, 
auch clainik are in tnntl cn«e> clue lo iho ovil inuginsiion or elifi n)iML-]]re«cnlatiott 
of those who mako rhem. There is certainly no truth in their allegations regard- 
iu|{ llie worship uf reprotluclion s» long at leant ax it i« aiauL-iatcil ur idcrlified with 
the nutiiarcbatc pbaac uf liuniau develupment and with ibe worship of mothcrbood." 




was indigenous, no doubt a great and sacramental one, laying- 
just stress upon the supreme function of man, giving it the 
place of highest .sanctity and perhaps making it the act of con- 
summate worship, phallicisni gradually lapsed to an ever lower 
position, long persisting as a secret cult, until it bccainc. in tlie 
unworthy, a siJmuhis for sense and passion, and in the logic of 
history was slowly s1oughe<l off as the elect retnnant of man- 
kind slowly found out a new and higher way. Possibly this 
diange nmy have been in sonic way related to the slow migra- 
tion northward of races, and a new thermal function of cloth- 
ing. Perhaps as races grew and spread aiul life had to be sus- 
tained by work in soils not tropically spontaneous, labor and 
healthful fatigue became a factor of purity. With dress, even 
the scantiest and most local, attention was more and more 
long-circuiteii to genera! form, figure, complexion, face, eyes, 
hair, and all the secondary sexual qualities, love antics, dances, 
and song, helped to drag the race upward from a floo<l of cor- 
raption. Asceticism is based on a normal instinct, and as the 
soul realized the cause of its woe, it abhorred what it had most 
loved, bume<l what it had worshiped, and perhaps by instincts 
akin to those tliat vowed poverty, chastity, and obedience, re- 
garded e\er>- manifestation that could lie called sexual as lewd 
and crapulous. At any rate. I think no one who has carefully 
availed himself of the knowledge now at hand can doubt that 
there was a later period when men assiduously scored away, 
wliCTe\'er it was possible, all traces of earlier phallicism and bc- 
ame iconoclastic towar<l all its documents — literary, monu- 
mental, symbolic, verbal, and religious: when they thought 
aces who still held the old failfi were only worthy of exter- 
mination, and were often blind and fanatical in their holy rage. 
This counter current would be true to the laws of sexual psy- 
chology, in which reaction always follows activity, and explains 
very simply so much that is baffling in the contrasts and fre- 
qtimtly the sudden alternations of individuals from debauchery 
ro prudery and fice 7'ersa. 

My contention, then, is that young people, cs|>ecially boys, 
in their development, as later shown, afford the ontogenetic 
pamlle] to these phyletic stages, each, as I think no one has 
previously suggested, confirming and illustrating the other and 
affording the developmental bases of explanation, hitherto lack- 



ing, for certain forms of sexual perversion or arrest.' If this 
view he correct, the race at one time, or nearly every ethnic 
stock at some time early in its <leveIopmenl, let itself go until it 
found that, as Hegel describes in his Phenomenology, pleasure 
has its limits in pain and must be compensated. Th«i came a 
period of humiliation and conviction of unworthiness or sin, 
in which man undertook to convert himself, but although he 
groveled and many despaired, the elect pressed on, yearning 
for the reincarnation of love in its primitive, high, holy, and 
wholesome sense in tlieir midst. Perhaps in this abjectness 
there was pious longing upward for a purer love to supervene 
from above. Thus man's history may explain to some d^ree 
why it is tliat sexual remorse is still, as we have seen in Chap- 
ter VI, the religious teacher's great opportunity, and may make 
us realize how, in the philosophy of history, a true incarnation 
o£ love is the object of such long, fervent, and prophetic desire, 
and its evangel so welcome to those who need it. 

As to the typical development of the sentiment of love in 
the individual, we still know too little, i. An infantile form 
of it is often seen between hoys and girls under the age of 
eight." It is then transparent, with nn self-conscionsness, and 
appears in fondness for each other's company, gifts for keep- 
sakes, especially edibles, and often in embraces and kisses. 
Jealousy is often well developeH, and tliere Is no mutual shyness 
or fear of ridicule between the liitle sweethearts, who some- 
times assume that they will marry and even prattle of details 
of life together. In rare cases such attraction has culminated in 
happy and fniitfu! wedlock. This precocity of love is of .scien- 
tific interest as illustrating in the individual what is probably 
an inversion of the order of the development of the race, in 
which the somatic seems to prece<le. It is Platonic and in a 
sense sexless, a purer affinity of soul than is generally possible 
later. To adult onlookers it is an entertaining spectacle, and to 

* It » thicflyihc dcgnuled upcct of iheie ihcmet that BarncK (FcelingK and 
Wcfts of Sex in Children; Fed. Sem., vol. li. p. 19s} tluiilu nlueieeii-lwemielhi 
vf Am<;ncan children Icntn ttom bm^t alleys, lirrv&uts, eic, CUitii; their niin<l» 
wilh words ihut go tiack to Aryan bcifinnings, but which it U a crime to prim, 
and with abnonnal visuul iinugcs highly polvnlialiied al pubcrry that are not only 
dirty and vul);iir, but fuhe. 

* Th« Emotion of Lov« between iht S«xcs, by Saaford UtAL Am. Jour, of 
P»y., July, 1903. 




some, especially women, an ideal and prophecy of a new Edcnic 
state of purity, but it is very doubtful if it is either a good sign 
or a desirable educational experience, especially for boys, to 
thus early individualize their interest in others, although it is 
immeasurably better than the vile physical precocity described 
in Chapter VI. The child marriages of the Orient do not, of 
course, rest on any such basis. It is exotic, like infant piety, 
limits the range of association normal at this age, tends to 
physical prematurity, and a fostering interest of grown-ups in 
it is. albeit unconsciously tu them, a fcnn of selfishness un their 
pari which indulges their own delectation at the expense of the 
best interests uf tlie child. Yet, like so many other phenomena, 
it si^gcsts, as does very early physical development, the possi- 
bility of traces of a prehistoric early ripeness in some piginoid 
stage that, like the persistence or hypertrophy of rudimentary 
oigans seen in teratology, has failed of proper reduction in its 
season. If so, it is a phenomenon of arrest and not of progress. 
2. Later, as Bell has shown, at from perhaps eight to twelve 
or fourteen, comes another phase of juvenile love. There is 
acute interest in some person of the other sex, but it is no longer 
UKonscious. The object of attraction is followed, hut at a 
distance. There are gifts, no longer face to face, but secretly 
uid perhaps anonir-mously. There is no confession, but con- 
fusion in each other's presence. There is no open pairing ofF, 
and teasing is often fatal Fear of ridicule is so great that 
acctisation of interest or taunts may prompt to denial or even 
to censure and asseveration of dislike, which may lead to sudden 
mntual aversion and even hate. Babcock,' out of eighty-three 
games of Washington children, calls thirty love games, like 
post-office. King William, London Bridge, picking grapes, 
dropping the handkerchief, digging a well. etc.. which owe their 
charm to choosing a partner, embracing, or kissing, or both. 
Thus preferences are freely expressed, but apparently iniper- 
scnal and masked by the rules of the game. The eyes feast on 
the loved one, but furtively and from afar. Boldness is in- 
cnased with the fall of darkness. The girl at this stage is 
ohen less guarded and more aggressive than the boy. It Is not 



called loving, but liking, which is partly a euphemism and 
partly a fitter designation of the juvenile state of mind. Boys 
deny it far more reachly upmi occasion than girls. Some 
never confess either to the object of their love or to any con- i 
fidant, child or adult, hut may ostentatiously speak sliglitingly. ' 
They arc ill at ease with each other and perhaps would be 
ashamed to be seen together, and the object of an ardent passion 
lasting for several years may never snspect it. Its chief out- 
crop may he a hostile demonstration toward a fancied rivaL 
Perhaps avowal is made in a note sent through a friend, or even 
with the identity of the writer carefully concealed, or motto 
candy, valentines, omaments. curios, keepsakes, fruit, picture 
cards, etc., are sent. In school these mntcs often love to sit 
or stand together and seek contact that must appear to be acci- 
dental. Favoritism is shown by intentionally missing a word 
so that the other shall profit by it, or helping in study or recita- 
tion. If one is absent from school, the other grows lax, indif- 
ferent, or irritable, suggesting that such attractions arc often 
an incentive to good work that pedagogic tact could utilize. 
Some brace up in study for years to please or win the favor 
of another. A form of courtship may consist solely in touching 
feet under the desk. Sometimes tlicre is a profusion of billets- 
doux, pages long, by those who are tongue-tied together. A 
teacher who furnished Bell with seventy-six cases, said these 
childish loves " fairly broke out in the spring-time." 

Showing off is perhaps the boy's chief expression of this 
callow calf love. He instinctively seeks to chann by somer- 
saults, walking fences, yodehng, aping animals in voice and 
act. mimicking people, wrestling, bullying his mates, and often 
tackling bigger boys, and sometimes courting danger, which in 
extreme cases has brought mayhem or death, hanging by the 
toes from trees, cutting the initials of his favorite in the ice, or 
carving or drawing them. There is much scufHing and horse- 
play, loud or grandiloquent talk to others, but really intended 
for her. A boy hugs another, his sister, or a pet in the pres- 
ence and for the benefit of his affinity. Here, too, the boy's 
courtship and its tension-vents are those of the savage writ 
small. To this repertory of fascination the girl responds per- 
haps by ostentatiously and studiously ignoring them all. Of 
all boys, the one who is so assiduously prancing attendance 



upon her as the best form of afimiration he can offer, is the one 
of whose very presence she is most unconscious. This may be 
a\*ersion, but it is more likely to be due to her <Jinn but strong 
instinct to prompt him to a nearer and more personal expres- 
sion. No psycholc^ist, but only her trusted confidante, and 
perhaps not she. can tell which it is. She might upon occa- 
sion slap him and afte^^va^d fancy or wish it had been a kiss. 
Meanwhile she is pondering whether she likes him as well as 
papa, mama, or even God, and is in some cases raising vexa- 
tious scruples in her budding conscience. Perhaps she Includes 
him in her prayers with parents or pets, or fancies love and 
hate by turns. She writes his name or pronounces it in secret 
&tid wonders if she likes its sound or its association with others 
bearing the same name, is nice to another buy to goad him on. 
praises before him qualities he lacks or in which others excel, 
or condemns freckles, light hair, or some item of attire which 
characterizes him, but if he shows sign of lukewannness or di- 
version to another, she comes forward with some sudden and 
unequivocal token. The first crude impulse of coyness often 
impels her lo open scorn of what is secretly fa.scinating. Thus 
Boyvilleand Girldom reenact in pantomime a love life that was 
old when history began, for these fore-courts of love, which arc 
so delicious, are more ancient than all the temples that civiliza- 
tion and culture have built for it. and these crude rehearsals are 
more essential and true to life than many of the more higlily 
elaborated expressions of it that modern romance and conven- 
tion liave superposed. 

Another characteristic trait of this agc.often strongly accen- 
tuated also in the next, or third stage, is juvenile love of an 
older person of the opposite sex. Tlie inlerval may lie ten or 
twenty years or even more. From the rather meager data avail- 
aUe, it would appear that there is here less fickleness and more 
constancy, partly but not wholly l>ecaiise only the junior party 
changes, while the elder remains always only kind. With 
extreme disparity, this is most common where the free play of 
intercourse with other children of equal age is restricted. But 
beyond this there is a marke^l early and pre-adolcscent pro- 
cli\ity to focus affection at least quite as sharply differcnliatcd 
from that felt for parents as from the love of riper years, upon 
older counterparts. Some children of from four to six fall in 




love witli those of the later teens and early twenties or even 
older.' These youngsters are uftcn demonstrative, persistent, 
jealous, chatter about marriage, appropriate the object of their 
infatuation to see whom they eagerly abandon every playmate 
or occupation and comport tlieinsclves with everj- affectation of 
young gentlemen and ladies that tUey can attain. Grief at the 
marriage of the object of their choice is often violent. Ridicu- 
lous and often ominous as this is, it is often regarded by 
parents with complacency. 

3. In the period from eight to thirteen or later, the tendency 
to older loves is more common, but the law seems to be that dis- 
parity lessens with age, falling to ten, five or less years. Al- 
though returns do not yet warrant statistics of frequency, boys 
seem to lead during the first part of this period, and girls later. 
Boys in the grades may select a young female teacher and be- 
come abject slaves to her slightest wish. She is idealized, at- 
tended on every occasion, overwhelmed with gifts and con- 
fidences, flattered hy imitation conscious and unconscious. The 
object may reciprocate with a feeling half motherly and half 
amorous. Where the male is older there h more, yet still 
but little, real danger. The disparity of years is itself a safe- 
guard and the older feels the innocence of the younger to be a 
matter of honor, though conscious recognition and even more 
or less avowal is mutual. Often great good, especially to the 
younger, results, and the plasticity thus arising is wisely util- 
ized. Plato thought boys and older men should choose each 
others as lovers, and teaching should be a pay-less work of 
love, but the boy now often has female tcjicliers only and must 
vent this propensity, if such it be, on them for want of an avail- 
able male mentor. In one case I know, there was a series of 
four loves in about as niany years, each younger than tlie pre- 
ceding, so that the sum of the ages of both did not vary greatly, 
the last being of nearly the same age as the lover — a case sug- 
gestive of what, as we shall see later, is by sonic thought a law 
of constant aggregate age of both parents fur most effective 
child-bearing. Much of the sentiment of the younger party in 
most of these cases is made up of admiration, respect, and even 
reverence, and whatever return there may be by the older is of 

* Bell, 4rfi. fit., p. 348. 


3 pleasing sense of having a protcg,^ to shelter, to be responsible 
for. dominate, and occasinnally to domineer. Thus such rela- 
tions mny be a wholesome fore-school to life. The charm to the 
younger is sometimes partly malurity itself, as if tlie budding 
nature was not satisfied with what childhood had to offer and 
was protensive toward adidthood. This, if to a degree that 
xSolates the wholesome rule of exhausting each stage of life as 
it is Hved, is distinctly liad. So far as it is due to unconscious 
discontent with the little conventionalities that the sexes in- 
stinctively assume toward each other and to attraction toward 
one loo old to think of thein. and therefore more natural, it is 
belter Tlic instability of childhood often turns to its elders 
and is thus saved from caprice by imitating a good pattern, and 
then it is love of a more finished product and of sliaping the 
soul to an idealized model of the other sex. Even this is only 
3 partial advantage at the age when tlie life of each sex should 
to some extent include rather than supplement that of the 
other. In gcnertil. attachments for elders or for well-developed 
specimens of the same sex are belter at this age.' 

'Hw extieine o( lhi» Uticr, however, ii seen in ihe «i>-c«]]ed " mubct " so 
AsTKteriilic (A ailolcsccni girit and itic hcro-woTthip and f^KljiiiJ! of boyi. 
TWae Kan»o-*«ual (cLftlion» were rccogniied in Greece fur boys who were lliuu|{ht 
Ularlaiiste, or id to(D« way dcficienl il rhey did not h&vc an iduli pnuon. This 
fMapml iilcal coodoct of the elder in Ihc prc«encc of ihi^ yiiunxer partner Ihai 
•Mttal the highest example l)e lei, and general hut not lechnicAl teaching and 
Wlklion Inio life. The cider tnunt auume renpontibility for the younger, in*pirt 
kim B>d f«el shaunc (or hi* erior or ignomncc. That Ihc relation lapsed to bass- 
KM later ihonld not blind us lo Ihe peat possible aJvantagc* of il in many, if not 
owj kind of aocia] organiution. Many of IIh^c. as we shall *te later, arc now 
lining il wfafa good mails. Not only is the ideal teacher pnnurily an oltlcr friend, 
IstiUiiag ihc conl with knowledge and bringing ideaa to birth, but, as il is aome- 
(!•« uid, «rcry woman i« always mure or less in lure with some man, su in the 
dwdt, club, young peoples' organ iial ions, and the lutiirisl system at its best, 
■nij mah >■ always profoundly influenced by sume one a little older, and is imire 
WttM (ilanic to bis or her will. Each is imprcsMonable by some one slrungcr, 
ka* brillitini. or mherwise sgtecially favored by nature itt ftntune, aa he is not by 
4kTv The old and K""' *^^ '*"* ''>'' ■'way, bill mott Itavc Ihts hern embodyin){ 
at ideaL la girts, esitccially if ikolated from the other mx, this humo-xeinaltty is 
•bo perrasive if lets often organised under a leader, and it« extreme fortn of 
"dihIk* " is more liable to do harm. Ilie ponuiie is often given nervous puJse. 
pidnl anghl and gain« new incenlivr. but also loses independence, mid becomes n 
dialing vine juti when she should learn to think and act for herself. The object 
<( tUs kind of love is templed to selliKhfic«K in accepting service, and may become 
fcadDMring and maacolinc in manner. With girls, especially, chesc dangers, like 



4. In the fourth stage, there is a rather distinct period that 
begins with puberty which is marked by a general tendency o£ 
the sexes to draw apart for a season. The barks of love built 
before are mostly too frail to cross the breakers that separate 
childhood from youth. The new interests now bom are too 
many, strange, sudden, and absorbing. Each is a new creature, 
and ai] relations, ideas, and ideals are changed. A new im- 
pulsion to develop and perfect a personality all one's own arises 
in each sex. Sex itself means other and more tiian before, and 
reserve and a new sex consciousness unfold. Modes of life, in- 
terests, and plans for the future differentiate. The boy becomes 
a little ashameil of girl associates and is desirous of asserting his 
manhood, while tlie girl is more conscious if not more coy. 
Each is more aware of the other's scrutiny and often a httle 
fearful of it. Persistence of the old camaraderie would now 
have a different and more serious meaning, and each is a httle 
wary of being attracted into the other's sphere. Nearly every 
known primitive race now isolates the sexes for a time from 
each other, and perliaps this ancient practise now apjwars as an 
instinct which reenforces the necessity for a period of restraint. 
It is tempting to speculate on how essential this stage of segre- 
gation has been for the progress of the human race, and how, if 
it is ignored, familiarity, which sometimes breeds contempt, 
may here disenchant and impair the motives for a proper rap- 
prockemeftt later when full nubility is achieved. This theme 
must be left for the chapter on the education of girls. 

5. The age of love, in the full and proper sense of the word, 
slowly supervenes when body and soul arc mature, and on this 
we must dwell longer and seek to analyze and describe its ele- 
ments. The world has long waited for an adequate treatment 
of this vast and vital theme, but that modem psychology is now 
approaching it from so many sides is one of the racst hopeful 
facts of the present age. 

The development of the sex function is normally, perhaps, 
the greatest of all stimuli to mental growth. The new curiosity 
and interests bring the alert soul into rapport with very many 
facts and laws of life hitherto unseen. Each of its phenomena 

wor«e ones fur bolh iciei previously described, are p*ri of the price modern man 
must p«y (or ihe prolonged prenubile apprenticeship lo Utc, All are ne«dral 10 
humati process, dearly as il is boaghl. 


supplies the key to a new mystery. Sex is the most potent and 
magic open sesame to the deepest mysteries of life, death, re- 
ligion, and love. It is, therefore, one of the cardinal sins 
against youtli to repress healthy thoughts uf sex at the proper 
age. because thus the mind itself is darkeneil and its wings 
dipped for many of ttie higher intuitions, which the supreme 
muse of common sense at this its psycliologic moment ought 
|p give. If youth are left to themselves and the contagion 
of most environments, this mental stimulus takes a low turn 
toward lewd imaginations and vile conceptions, which under- 
mioe the strength of virtue, and instead of helping upward 
and making invulnerable against all temptation, it makes vir- 
tue safe only in its absence and prepares the way for a fall, 
•ben its full stress is first felt.' 

IV. Neither the psychology nor the pedagogy of adoles- 
Mnce can be treated without careful consideration of the whole 
problem of sex. In the vast literature upon this subject, the 
hologists have hitherto treated almost exclusively the anatomy 
and cmbrj'o'ogy of sex and its physiology in the lower forms 
of life, and have had little to say concerning its function in 
man. The alienists have given us a most painful Ihnugh scien- 
tiScally precious body of facts concerning perversions, hut no 
ccmpetent writer among them has seriously considered their 
origin. an<i the best of them hardly mention puljerty or adoles- 
cence, while writers on this topic, like Clouston and Marro, 

■G. Lotsel (Rev. Scientifiqoc, Mty 30, 1903). in an Inieretting tnicte on sex- 
■miitj. •itempts xo rtiffereiiiute (our difTCTcnt groops or evolationitrf «lagcs of sex> 
«1 qwlities : Tint, ihoH ihai accontpftny the act of fecandation uid whicb are 
m; earijr both in oniogenesiB tnd phylogenesis hke the gUuids and or|[Ans. in- 
dadinf those of prehension, of which he enumereies twenty-lhrcc; secondly, 
mill Has prepare for thb ici which appear later and snmeiimeii disappear wiih Ibe 
Unl period, like pigniciitauan, organs of locomotion. cliAercnces in sireiiRth and 
IK, hora*. (pars, tccih, K»g, odors, deconlionK. etc: Ihirdly. those concerned 
ttti Ihc edoction ol the new being, which appear later yet. such as oricanv of uvi- 
pwlbOB. nidificatioa, somatic carirics. ctiFanrotii fortnattons, permanent ur Iran* 
Mary. *ark>as appendixes, those concerned with feeding the young — secreiitms, 
tr «i» U . placoKa. etc.; and fourthly, psychic and Mhnoloj^ic traits having only a 
nute mffitff with Ihe above and flri%int; only as a restill of very acceotualed sea. 
nl cvolation. soch as different hnhils ol mnle and female, their varied conditions 
tmte. nodes ot cotirtship. modesty, marriage, family, etc. Under these primary, 
(■taduy, tcrtiwy, aad qoateroary groups, he believes, (all all imporianl phe> 



have mostly limJteri tlicmsclves to ttic psyclio-pliysiological as- 
pects of the age they treat with no atlempl al larger coordina- 
tion. Ellis has so far confined himself mainly to a record of 
facts and opinions, and Scott,' who lias approached the sub- 
ject from the Lroadest staiHlpoiiit, has written only a single 
monograph on the relations between sex and art. The cue 
given by Darwin's treatment of sexual selection as the chief 
factor in the descent of man must first be follow^ed, and wc 
may well invoke Plato's Diatoina to be our gnide in this, per- 
haps the Jar^'est. most complex, yet most interesting and most 
important of all human themes. Gcddcs and Thompson * state 
that " the number of spcadations as to the nature of sex has 
Ucen well-nigh doubled since Drclincourt in the last century 
brought togellier two hundred and sixty-two groundless hy- 
potheses." But, as Schleicmiacher well says, sex ought lo be 
endlessly studied, because il is the most endless of subjects. 

We may begin by recalling the now familiar facts of or- 
ganic decorations in the mating season where, in the animal 
world, the ai)])eal is directly intersexual. and not. as in the case 
of blossoms in sexual plants, through the medium of insects. 
From the latter up. seasonal sex decorations make the whole 
animal world beautiful even to man. I.ife overllows in bright 
colors, the products of health. Ocelli, combs^ wattles, horns, 
erectile hairs, top-knots. lapettes. crests, bands, spots, nuptial 
plumage, and many extra appendages, indicating high blood 
pressure and increased tension of life, herald the spring-time 
awakening. Tlic ibex, goat, and some apes, develop beards; 
the glow-worm emits its love light to signal a mate; scent 
glands are censers for the incense of love ; organs of prehension 
and of warfare grow as their need arises; and musical instru- 
ments are developed in and on the body. Not only structure, 
but function, is evolved. In the mating season the air is filled 
with noise-s; insects tick or stridulatc; birds drum, slur, and 
rattle, and if they live in the dense woods where bright plumage 
would be less effective, they are endowed with song. .Mmost 
ever)' animal is vocal at its mating lime, and birds pout, tumble, 
strut, balz, or dance, open their wings to show hidden charms 

' Sex xnd Art. Am. Janr. of Psy., Jutuuy, 18<>6. vol. Tii. pp. 153-316. 
* Evolotjgn of Sex, p. 1I7. 




of color; theyoften perform the most complex love antics, and 
emit their most cliarminjj love calls in their courtships often 
very prolong«I and elaborate, their ars erotica even extending 
m details of toilet that might almost be called cosmetic. 

Animated by this same instinct, and under the influence of 
the momentum of all this heritage, priniiltve races attempt to 
improve upon nature and exaggerate or modify their physical 
pecuHarities. There arc mutilations, often of the sex parts, 
sometimes of the ear, the skull, nose, lips, or teeth, which may 
be as disfiguring to our taste as the pelele, with scarifications 
that raise ritlges, and tattooing, which may he for modesty, 
as if clothes could be etclied on for beauty or ornament, or to 
make the wearer feared, or, even as Wundt and Fraser think, 
to imprint the totem of their tribe upon human parchment. 
The hair is most diversely treated of all. It is pulled out, 
dared, or made to grow as long as possible and done up into 
highly conventionalized and elalmrate forms. Many games 
and dances and most songs and cries are highly sexual, and 
owe much of their stimulus to the presence and encouragement 
i>f the other sex. Ethnologists often discover this element 
where it is no longer recognized by the natives. 

In early puberty the same instinct is often normally the 
teiy first manifestation of sex feeling in boys; the primary 
onlcrop of secondary psychic sexual qualities is often seen in 
the " showing off " instinct. Hundretls of boys, in our returns, 
nn fastest, hit hardest, talk largest, are most stimulated to 
compete and excel, do rash and foolhardy or unusual tilings, 
when observed by girls, or perhaps by one in particular. They 
stand, walk, and sit more erect; use larger words and more 
ample or perhaps softer and more richly cadenced tones and 
accents ; their eye and their wits are brighter. Older youth are 
n« without sex consciousness in the display of athletic feats in 
which the body is more or less exposed. 

The influence of the female sex upon the conflicts between 
nnles is old, deep, and manifold. In animals, many claws, 
horns, beaks, and fangs arc for oflfcnsivc and defen.sive war in 
the battles for females, and many organs and muscles used in 
coodnt are also for the prehension of the female. In a primi- 
tive polygamous state, where each male desires as many females 
Es possible, he is at war with all other males and frequently in a 



lifc-and-death simple with them. He often wars on neipfhbor- 
ing races for the capture of v\ives, where exogamy is the cus- 
tom. Where the fenialc is the prize, victory may be dehned as 
successful courtship and war is for the sake of love. Grad- 
ually with advancing civilization, conflict may become cere- 
monialized as in the tournaments of chivalry, and finaily Ixittles 
become more and more mimetic, and the stern, fierce look and 
strong frame, tlial coiiltl be aggressive, the quality of cour- 
age that could do or dare, or even the uniform of war rather 
than blood itself become most moving to the female soul. Kx- 
cess tends to Sadistic morbidity, wbich here takes its rise. The 
rage of war is expressed in the rage of sex, which may break 
all barriers, and, strange to say. so plastic is the adjustment of 
the sexes, tbat not only are some men in the sad clinical ro- 
mances of abnormality all anger in their love, but some women 
arc all fear, and their love means utter sulwrdination and 
the ultra passivity of cruel pain, because love has come in 
this guise, which, in extreme cases, may culminate in lust 

It is a prime and precious fact to which man owes we 
know not how much in his higher evolution, that while aggres- 
sive qualities may bavc preceded and dominated in the early 
developmental stages, the esthetic manifestations of sexual ten- 
sion precede and exceed them now in youth. The female may 
have had much to do with tins, and it is certain that the girl's 
delicate appreciation, though often veiled by affected indiffer- 
ence, has been a constant biotonic stimulus. Through it all 
she performs her great role of sexual selection. Man is pass- 
ing her examination, part by part, in the oldest and most effec- 
tive of all nature's schools. To her power of appreciation and 
her capacity to admire nothing is lost. Her high function is 
to praise aright. While chronic mihtarism is bad in its effects 
on woman, her tendency is constantly to subdue it. Her very 
coyness is unconsciously prized because it is a stimulus to self- 
exhibition and all the parenetical arts of ci>urtship. While 
for man the original pairing season is mainly lost, yet the fancy 
of each sex turns more lightly to love and is more hyperesthelic 
lothe other in spring-time, and the rappart and range of adjust- 
ment is more exquisite and marvelous. So great is the plas- 
ticity of this relation that woman may acquire a Massochistic 



}ov€ of violence and pain for the ideal of pleasure, abhor the 
losliful man, ostentatiously affect resistance in order to tntlame 
hrai to overcome it, or she may also be attracted to his sphere 
and become herself aggressive. Each sex is now in a sense 
msking. choosing, or keenly critical of secondary sexual qual- 
ities in the other. 

This is illustrated in a comprehensive census of data, al- 
ready tabulated, and soon to appear as a special memoir, en 
traits mediating sexual likes and dislikes. The order of points 
specified as most admired in the other sex by yoimg men and 
women in their teens, who answered my questioitnaire, is as fol- 
lows: eyes, hair, stature and size, feet, brows, complexion, 
dieeks. form of head, throat, cars, chin, hands, neck, nose, 
nails and even fingers, and shape of face. In Drew's census of 
356 love poems of college students, where eyes and hair also 
\aA, where kisses (sixty-six mentions) are often unreal, 
dreamed, fancied, charms of the hand, and walking, riding, 
dancing, eating confccti<Miery follow; the sweetheart's song, 
sigh, jKiUt, smile, and even chewing-gum, are also specialized 
fasdnattons.' In each case many often highly specialized 
poinU are mentioned. For instance, eight per cent of young 
men are very susceptible to sloping or drooping shoulders; 
sei-en per cent of the girls specify broad shoulders ; ten per cent 
regular and six per cent white teeth ; long lashes charm five 
per cent of the young men; long, clean, or pink finger-nails 
ire often specified; arched brows among girls find a special 
susceptibility in (our per cent of the youth, while cowlicks 
dianu three per cent. Often the specialization of taste or 
Inference lays great stress ui>on the color of the hair, the 
shape of the hand or fingers; for some a nose slightly retroussS, 
a \ong neck, prominent eyes, dimples, and even freckles, have 
iperial erogenic power. 

Passing to movements or acts, the voice has Ear most 
preferences and is highly specialized. Some arc affected by a 
bigh, some a low. voice. The risiiig inflection, clearness, flex- 
iKility, a lisp, .special intonations, accents, or even dialects, are 
often prepotent. The mo<le of laughing comes next, while 
carriage, gait, gesture, the movement or roll o£ the eye, the 



pose of the head and shoulders, the mode nf fanning, us 
the handkerchief, holding (he dress, tlie way of sitting or sigh- 
ing, may each have a special preeminence. 

In dress or toilet, hair leads, and length, mode, or parting, 
dressing, ctirling, hcan -catchers, etc.. are detailed. Rings, 
bracelets, and ribbons come next with the girls, and with boys, 
clothes that fit, with several specifications, especially at the 
shoulder, waist, etc. Canes, glasses, furs and collars, teeth 
filled with gold, clean linen, white handkerchiefs, the quality 
of the cloth, pronounced styles, hats, and even parasols and 
umbrellas, are .specialized. i'"or some, a particular mode of 
wearing the hat. stick-pins, the special style of collar, the mode 
of wearing the watch-chain, frizzes, or coils, symmetry, neat- 
ness, etc., are all prominently mentioned. 

Conversely, dislikes are no less pronounced. Here, promi- 
nent, deep-set eyes lead, and fulness of neck, ears that stand out, 
brows that meet, broad and long feet, high cheek-bones, light 
eyes, large nose, small stature, long neck or teeth, bushy brows, 
pimples, red hair, and a score and a half other points are speci- 
fied. Of abhorred habits, the following lead in order: snuiHing, 
lisping, making faces, swallowing, rolling the eyes, loud voice, 
" er- " and " um-ing," pausing in talk, gesticulation, sarcastic 
smiles, hard or tasteless laugh, stiffness in movement or ex- 
treme lounging, giggling, shuffling, bad inflections, swagger- 
ing, and many affectations. 

In dress, the order of dislikes mentioned is : earrings worn 
by men, lost teeth, neglect of style, bangs, thumb rings, hat on 
one side in men, short hair in women, baldness, ultra style, 
clothes that do not fit, monocles, flashy ties, untidy linen, hand- 
kerchiefs with colors, furs and rings for men, cheap or coarse 
dress, etc. 

Resemblance to animals plays a great and surprising role 
in adolescence among sexual dislikes. Forty-one are men- 
tioned, and the resemblances may be suggested by face, voice, 
motion, or character, the order being monkey, dog, parrot, 
pig, bird, peacock, cat, hen, donkey, sheep, rabbit, bear, fox, 
etc. Qualities disliked were as follows : impertinence, flattery, 
affectation, lx>Idness. complaint, bash fulness, languor, criticism, 
impulsiveness, deliberation, overgallantry, and frankness. 
These are the alphabet or stoichiological material of which 



romantic love is so largely composed, where trivial often eclipse 
great ijualities and one trait tnay be magnified l>eyond all 
bounds. We see love charms dissociatetl from sex centers and 
become objects of independent attraction, and al-io how, in de- 
generates, sex feelings may be transferred to new objects wtlh 
no change in the feelings themselves. If touch, smell, voice. 
e>'e, mind or bwiy, dress, automatisms, conscious acts, intelli- 
gence, arc the deccntric scries, we can sec bow now a cliange in 
fashion, now in manners, now in morals, and now In religion, 
may each be only a cliange of fetish groups, 

Wc note at once in the above the origin of morbid Ictlsh- 
isms, the bu<is of which exist in many cases at this stage of life 
when all of them probably take their rise. Normally, these 
special preferences, no dmihl often consciously, and still more 
often unconsciously, associated with liking fur individuals, 
already well developed, are instinctively organized as parts of 
a larger whole, so that when one who embodies in his or her 
own person most of these fctishistic traits is met with, love may 
soddoily recognize and focus on its own. There is quick identi- 
fication and fusion of ideals that are fit. Love is on this view 
the practical culmination of seIf*know ledge which is aware of 
defects, and the systematization of counterpart is more or less 
BDCoosciously proceeding in the depths of the soul. On the 
one hand, so many of these perfections may be coordinated 
um! in so high a degree, that the ideal hovers forever above the 
rality. and the former must be comprised within actual mating. 
The romantic love, which Finck shows is largely a modern 
product, illustrates the ideals of the minstrels of the twelfth 
century, and many of the modern novelists of both the pomo- 
paphic and the mystic schouls must share with many other 
oases the responsibility of perturbing the plain and beauteous 
order of nature. In six leading contemporary alienists, I find 
the following definitions of the love as descrilied in novels, 
"emotive delusion." "fixed idea." "rudimentary paranoia," 
"psychic neurasthenia," "psychic emotive obsession." and 
"episodic symptoms of hereditary degeneracy." In the de- 
generate soul, the whole energy of love may center upon some 
single irait which may thus come to play a disproportionate or 
n-cn <lcmiurgic part in the life of sex. In any case, esthetic 
taste is unconsciously being cultivated over a wide range of 



topics and to a d^ree of which the mature mind generally loses 

all appreciation. 

Kemale coyness and reluctance or refusal is so deep-seated 
as to belie tlie Bible imputation that this sex made tlie first ad- 
vances. The contrarj' seems true, that in this respect woman 
is nonnally and constitutionally more unfalleii than man, and 
that the world owes to her the precious and primal motive of 
reserve. All through the animal series she leads, not only 
organically, because her parts are inward and hidden, but psy- 
chically, in the instinct to cover. As Ellis well sLiggest.s, the 
attitude of the Mcdiccan Venus with the two hands concealing 
and protecting the two chief sexual zones is typical. First, 
no doubt, comes fear and her shyness and timidity accentuated 
by male aggression and full of reverlKrations through her 
whole mental and physical organism. Next, perhaps, comes the 
long menstrual taboo to which man lias condemned her, so 
that her instincts shun cverytliing that could betray this condi- 
tion and seek in every way to disguise it. To these are added 
the dread of excittng disgust and the close association of ex- 
crcmeiital functions and the shame that centers in them, An- 
other factor is her individual preference which constantfy 
tends to make her reserved toward all others, although she 
would be unreserved to one. Wailz thinks that she thus antici- 
pates male ownership, and in civilized life the feelings of a 
future husband. The fact that during most or all of the stages 
of gestation she is averse to approach would place a psychic 
embargo upon these periods. Sixth, the pain of parturition 
and the labor of rearing children must have always constituted, 
whenever foresight was sufficiently developed, a strong toco- 
logical and prudential restraint: while lastly, her love of being 
admired, courted, and wooed would make delay in these deli- 
cious forecourts of love prolonged. Dressed and fortified by 
all tliis intricate panoply of motives to anatomical, physiolog- 
ical, and psychological modesty, she plays her role of sexual 
selection, long-circuiting primary to secondary instincts, slowly 
domesticating man and developing in bim the traits she pre- 
fers, and endowing him with many of his best secondary sexual 
qualities. Miss tJamble says, in substance, that woman thus 
created man, gave him his Ijest traits of mind and body, and 
takes pleasure in adding tliat she had to make him attractive 



to endure him. But the reverse process has been no 
i«s effective, for she thus diverted selective processes to higher 
secondar)' qualities in herself, and gave these all Uie stimuh 
that spring from natural selection. If the race had passed 
through a long stage of female supremacy or a mat ri archaic, 
as Bachofen supposed, this would naturally intensify and re- 
fine all these long-circuit influences. 

With, and prohahly without, this latter stress, sexual ten- 
sion would have lieeii sufficient to be one cause of the now well- 
established greater variability of the male as compared with the 
female. Sexual sympathy could overdo its work and attract 
the male to the sphere of the female. This would supply the 
aase of feminism in its many forms, and perhaps the sac- 
diarinity ineffable of many an ancient and modem amorist and 
bard. If man loses his cue and becomes ovcrdocile, interpret- 
ing the woman's states of mind too subtly, playing female parts 
in her costume, with oily voice and cadence, wc have the germs 
of inversion. Not only in the body, but in the psyche of child- 
hood, there are well-marked stages in which male and female 
traits, sensations, and instincts struggle for prepotency. Here, 
too, the instincts peculiar to the opposite sex may not vanish as 
they normally should, so that we have bi-sexual souls. In these 
cases, where latencies and rudiments of the other sex are 
aroused, as eviration progresses, instincts in the male predomi- 
nantly feminine, which should be relegated to the background, 
arc brought to the fore. Moreover, in the state consecutive to 
constimmation, exiiaustion in the male produces a temporary 
passivity akin to feminism, and this state is the backgruund uf 
hotno-scxuality. Schopenhauer, with singular lack of insight 
or with germs of inversion in his own soul, thought the latter 
a normal state for men over fifty and a wise provision of nature 
to turn these instincts in man from the opposite sex to his own 
for the benefit of posterity. 

WTiile these sad phenomena are unquestionably exceptional 
and degenerate, we have, in the excessive predominance of 
feminine reluctance, factors which Moll has made the basis of a 
theory of the origin of fetishisms; viz., that where clothing 
and other accessories have too far or too completely irradiated 
man's sexual instinct, it may focus on relatively neutral or in- 
different parts, objects, and acts, until instead of specializing in 



an individual synthesis, it focuses upon one single item which 
may provoke it toward any person, and becomes anesthetic 
toward its normal stimulus. Upon this view, prmlery and 
mock modesty have a share in the responsibility for this perver- 
sion which sometimes, although far less than in cases of in- 
version, is reflected in bodily modifications at puberty. The 
fact that both sexes have in them germs of the other's quality, 
makes it innimbent upon each to play its sex symphony with 
no great error, lest the other be more or less desexed in soul. 
The function of dreams and of heredity in these abnormalities 
does not concern us here. 

It is one important office of convention, custom, and eti- 
quette to preside over this balance between the relationship of 
the sexes at large. Modesty is at root mode, and woman is its 
priestess. Nothing can be more diverse among different people 
and in different ages. Nudity is perfectly compatible and often 
associated with modesty, whose only garb may be virtue, which 
may express itself in pose, deportment, and make itself thor- 
oughly recognized at once upon acquaintance. From the mere 
phalocript and the mixed bathing in japan, the foot modesty 
in China which could sooner e,s:|K)se anjtliing else, from the 
shame of male models up to the sensitiveness that blushes if 
the neck is exposed in the bath-suit or the ankle in the ballroom, 
that does not permit the sight of one's own body alone, that 
drapes statues and can not study botany, we have scales and 
unwritten codes which extend no less rigorously to acts, ges- 
tures, and expressions. These are like psychic garments with 
changing fastiions, but erotolog}* well understands that some- 
times to ignore their existence is itself to win, for like clothes 
they m.^y be removed with reluctance, but oivce off the wearer 
sinks to a lower psychic plateau on which the race long lived, 
and becomes nvirc or less shameless. 

It is on these laws, written and unwritten, that coquetry 
loves to play. It Hces, but flees in a circle, or to e.xcite pursuit; 
it resists, but so as to provoke conquests ; it understands that 
conceahnent inllames and feeds fancy, that dress may be war- 
paint in the battle of sex against sex. Without consciously 
assuming that modesty was meant only to be overcome, that 
many of the original dances parody the closest of all relations, 
and that modes are often set by dani'tnondaines, everything is 



risque. Pudenda arc corcealed but with colors still more strik- 
ing, anil, as Ellis says, dashes, stars, and asterisks, as Swift 
first used tliein. may be most insidiously suggestive. The 
coquette is generally discentcrcd and hollow at the root, and 
her fickleness is not that normal to the monthly rhythm, but 
capricious and freaky. Any barrier, no matter how fantastic 
and extreme, if consciously let down may become provocative 
and immoral. The early stages of adolescent development 
shtiuld be mainly directed toward irradiation and the cultiva- 
tion of qualities penumbra! and accessory to the fundamental 
one of sex. Education, religion, art, society, and philosophy 
must build a well-constructed stairway up the same height 
which the Platonic ladder sought lo scale, .'\lmost everjlhing 
stiould be viewed by adults in its bearing to this one end. so 
that orgies may !>e restrained and calentures be experienced on 
a high plane. 

Not only is the soma itself in some a secondary sexual 
quality, hut its development is a kind of nidification for the 
hinnan germ to be molted at death, when it lias served its pur- 
pose, while work with intetisJty is necessary so that erethisms 
and second breath may l)e had both in physical and mental 
aaivity. Healthful and sufficient society of noble women, 
communion with whom at this age rapidly passes over to 
aiktfation; diversion, starting out in business as the majority 
of young people do in the early teens on completing the legal 
refiuirements of education; avoidance of sclf-consciousncss, 
l»t it be turned toward parts and functions the premature dc- 
vekipment of which stunts all the higher faculties ; enthusiasm 
m intellectual work, so that studies be not drj' and leave us 
»!'l; experience with hardship and perhaps some asceticism 
and mortification of the flesh at the age when the blood is 
^'Ottest, when debauchees became flagellants and St. Benedict 
ryllcd in the lliorn bushes to divert and check his passion ; even 
sorrow and grief and perhaps love melancholy, which glimpses 
in itain and disappointment its Nemesis, death — all these, if 
«A actually budduig up higher Jacksoiiian levels in the brain, 
arc cunsiructing nests of high and wholesome thoughts for old 
age. in which it can dwelt with pleasure and dignity, when the 
ttrcM of passion is gone, and are working out the higher voca- 
tion of man. 



One of the functions of this flood-time of life is lo irrigate 
old age and make it green, to lay up psychic treasure anticipa- 
tory of it, and make senescence, wUicli is in so inatiy ways a 
negative replica or intagho of adolescence, pure and noble in a 
Iiigh Ciceronian sense. It is perhaps not without significance 
that the nervous system begins its development with sex and 
increases for the most part pari passu with it. Its associative 
plexi are organs of Irradiation upward and they have widening 
correspondences in time and space, so that the satiety of the 
moment does not breed disgust, and the physical and spiritual 
arc indissoKibly knit together, so that love can now be the most 
unitary act of a highly complex life. Offspring is literally a 
continuation or a part of the body, and love to it begins in and 
is a part of self-love. In lower forms even the nest is secreted, 
and the idcntitj- of body between parent and offspring is such 
that defense is self-protection. 

Thus starting from the reproductive act and widening to 
love of features, dress, acts, and fair forms, and so on in en- 
larging concentric circles, to all the arts of caressa, then to 
images and courtship, ever higher, richer, purged of fear and 
anger. love with the mind instead of with sense may Iwcome 
the kinetic equivalent and catharsis for its grosser physical 
manifestations, and its telluric-chthonic type may be transpe- 
ciated to reenforce the appreciation of all that is good, beauti- 
ful, and true. From giving, first, edibles and toys up to seU- 
efTacement; from love of being together to complete coordi- 
nation of habits, tastes, and instincts; from trying to please 
and cause a smile up to always preferring another's good to 
one's own — all this is not alchemy and the archaic symliolism 
in which love poems rcvc!, hut the plain, simple course of 
evolution if normally environed. It is no mystery save the 
supreme rayslcry of spring-time and of growth. 

The apex of individuation must he attained before genesis, 
but only for the sake of the latter, to which it is subordinate. 
This means the postponement of every nubile function till as 
near the end of the growth period as possible, so that maturity 
may realize as far as practicable the idea! of Sir Galahad, who 
had the strength of ten because his heart was pnre. The most 
rigid chastity of fancy, heart, and body is physiologically and 
psychologically as well as ethically imperative till maturity is 




complete on into the twenties, nor is it hard if continence is 
inward, for nature in all healthful bodies brings normal relief; 
while the most morbid symptom of decadence and degeneration 
of IxJth the individual and his stock or line is the concession 
to the excuses and justification now often current even among 
academic youth for the indulgences of passion. Restraint is 
now true manhood and makes races ascendent and not dc- 
sctndent. while from the plant world up, prematurity, ihat 
goes loo early to seed, means caducity. The perfected adoles- 
cent will now have systematized his ideals. 

\ sad new liffht upon tlie pectiltar vulnerability of early 
adolescence in girls is presented in a recent minute study of 
e^itecn cases of hysteria in highly adtivatcd subjects, to each 
of which more than one hundred hours of work was devoted.* 
In nearly every case, it was found that the primary disturbance 
was due to some lesion, shock, or psychic traumatism at pu- 
berty, such as a sudden indecent proposal from a revered friend 
or lover, or some pornographic scene, the private nature of 
which caused it to be concealed from others and unacknowl- 
edged by the subject of tt. This acted like a foreign body in 
consciousness, which would not be assimilated in the general 
associative plexus, but could sometimes \>e brought into con- 
xiousness by hypnosis; or in other cases, the mere act of con- 
fession relieved the hysterical symptoms, so that such experi- 
ences no longer inhibited motor acts. Sometimes the wounded 
feelings were almost lost to consciousness and were transmuted 
to physical pain or nausea, or else the fact developed a hidden 
Kfe of its own, or produced Oiarcot's passional attitudes where 
physical pain did not relieve the intense psychalgia. Freud 
Wms up by saying * that their chief result is that " from what- 
ever side and from whatever symptom we start, we always 
unfailingly reach the region of the sexual life." " At the bot- 
tom of ever>' case of hysterirL, and reprothjcible by an analytic 
Effort after even an interval of ten years, may be found one or 
niore facts of previous sexual experience l>etonging to early 
youth." " I regard this important result as the discovery of a 
rt^ Nili ol neuropathology." This view, atthmigh no doubt 


* BraoCT and Freud, iffi. til. 
■Wkn. IcIiD. RuadKhftii, 1B96. 



partial and less completely explanatory of all hysterical phe- 
nomena, brings it back, nevertheless, to its etyinolc^', and is 
suggestive here not only in showing the wide psychic and also 
somatic resonance of this function, but in confirming our con- 
tention that primary sexual facts normally come in the later 
stages of adolescence after secondary qualities have Iwcomc 
familiar lo consciousness. To my thinking, we have in the 
above theory a new outcrop of the old problems of catharsis, 
which is suggested in Plato's Symposium, elaborated in Aris- 
totle's Poetics, and voluminously discussed ever since (Doring 
mentions seventy treatises on it in fifteen years), and which is 
destined to be one of the most fundamental themes in the new 
psycholog)' of art, and perhaps still more of religion. 

Now love can include the whole body and soul. The fact 
that, as we have seen, woman is a more generic being than man, 
closer to the race, and less muLilated by specializations or by 
deformities of body or of soul, makes it easy and normal for 
man to see in his chosen Helen the entire sex. She becomes to 
him the flower in the crannied wall, by knowing and loving 
which he knows Clod and man. Every part of her Ixtdy and 
mind is attractive, lie must not be unable to see licr coun- 
tenance for her soul, or her soul for her body, and will find in 
her a complete microcosm so that age and beauty are not in- 
conipatilile. and his love for soma and psyche will eacli keep 
the other from atrophy. Marriage can now be idea], infallible, 
and impeccable without ret|uiring any platonic supervision of 
elders. The erogenic magnets are organized so that a life of 
true love can be both complenientat and symbiotic. Synthesis 
of the many complex elements now secures against any form 
of degradation ; each sex is conscious of its own good points, 
but still more so of those of the other; Hfe, whicli has hitherto 
been partial, provisional, and preparatory, now becomes com- 
plete in mutual, spiritual appropriation and mastery. Defects 
arc balanced, and two bodies and two sonis are a finished nidus 
for the development of the new resuUant life which can now be 

Every gcmmulc is mobilized and the .sacred hour of hered- 
ity normally conies when adolescence is complete in wedlock 
and the cerebro-spinal rings up the sympathetic system, and 
this bands over the reins to the biophores and gcnn cells, which 



vovi assert tlieir dominance over those of the soma. In the 
most unitary of all acts, which is the epitome ami pleroma of 
life, wc have the most intense of all affirmations of the will to 
bve and realize that the only true Clod is love, and the center 
ni life is worship. Every part of mind and body participates 
in a true pangenesis. This sacrament is the annunciation hour, 
with hosannas which the whole world reflects. Communion is 
fusion and Iieatitude. It is the supreme hednnic narcosis, a 
holy intoxication, the chief ecstasy, because the most intense 
of experiences ; it is the very heart of psychology, and because 
it is the supreme pleasure of life it is the eternal basis and 
piarantce of optimism. It is this experience more than any 
other that opens to man the ideal world. Now the race is in- 
carnated in the individual and remembers its lost paradise. 
Man must exiwricncc pleasure tn order to know the good, and 
the long rcverljerations of this experience remain, transporting 
the soul, filling it with a sense of exquisite rapture, delicacy, 
and deep joy, hovering over life and suffusing it with a glory 
wt hitherto suspected, enriching the past like a " vague snatch 
ofUranian antiphone." and lighting the future with the per- 
manent possibility of a higher life tlian could hitherto be con- 
ttivcJ. Life is now polarized, oriented, and potentialized. The 
soul is filled with a Titanlsm that would achieve a vita nuova 
upon a higher plateau, where the music of humanity is no 
longer sad but triumphant. The conversion of the Marquis 
'^■f Penalta. by the act of love, from a monk to a hero of action, 
a» the first taste of blood transforms a young tiger, illustrates 
how this act can never l>e normally passionate unless it is pure. 
Now the soul realizes the possibility of a new heaven and a new 
tarth ; that the highest dreams of hum.nn beatitude may be real : 
llol there is a sttmmum botium awaiting man on heights not 
rd scaled, and that erethism and its calentures are prophecies 
'•f a higher human estate. It pants for more and fuller life. 
Xi>lhing is such a potent norm, so pervades all the conscious 
»ml unconscious regions with a controlling force, which science 
on not descrilie and which is forever too subtle for the intellect, 
which is a more individual prcKluct. to trace. Every goal that 
woicc, art. religion, ambition strives for becomes more real 
and near, and in no other act are Ijocjy and soul so absolutely 
1 OQc, and the rights and fullest functiuns of each so utterly 



dependein upon those of the other. The flesh and spirit are 
niate<l, and now for the first time an apperception organ is 
muhcd forth, full grown like Minerva for knowing, doing, and 
feeling all that is lawful to man's estate. Nature, as hitherto 
conccivt'd. is transcended in the soul's natura naturata, and the 
extra and supernatural organ of faith comes into possession of 
its kingdom. 

Alas for those in whom this experience is mutilated by pre- 
mature or excessive experience in Venuslx-rg, for these can 
never know the highest. largest, and deepest things of life! 
Getiesic excess, vener\-. and salacity arrest the higher develop- 
ment, forever exclude the soul from the higher kingdom of 
man and compel it to dwell in lower regions, where adolescence 
merges into senescence too early and without normal culmina- 
tion. Synthesis on the psychic side and amphimixis on the 
ph>'sical issues in offspring in variation, in the interests of which 
sex was developed. The effectiveness of the rejuvenation thus 
arising in the new generation is a moral as well as a physiolog- 
ical hiometer, or test of life, every act of which should be con- 
formable to the neetis of the unborn, that an enfeebled exist- 
ence be not transmitted to them, but that the sacred torch be 
passetl on undimmed. Many a mystery of human existence is 
only the dim forecourt to this great clarifier. As Heraclitus 
thought the sun each night was absorlied into the earth, mak- 
ing all its mass a little wanner and lighter, and secreted anew 
each morning; as the snn explains many a mythic cycle of 
solar heroes and brings both them and the mind into a higher 
unity, so the high potential of sex per\-adcs and gives us the 
key by which to unlock many obsairiiies. When chaste and 
ripened love is thus, each personality is a god to the other and 
every such conception is immaculate for both. 

Reproduction is always sacrificial. Man learns to live by 
dying and his life is at best a masterly retreat. Relaxation and 
detumescence are the first faint sj-mptoms from afar of senile 
involution and the Nemesis of death, toward which the indi- 
vidual shrivels. After tlie liigh tide in which tlie ars amandi 
culminates, lifting existence, like the great bore on the Chinese 
riveni. the law of f*ost coitus tristc is gradually accentuated with 
iiKTCGising age. Now man truly knows good and evil, euphoria 
and displioria, and is polarized to pleasure and pain. Hereafter 



Kature grows more and more indifferent to the individual, for 
the species is his true essence and its life is an explanation 
and paraphrase of sex. In natures weakened by vcncry. indif- 
ference and impotence deepen to remorse and sometimes to 
psychic pain so intense that the fall of man is reenacted and 
hate and even murder may take the place of love. Pleasure at 
any price means a loveless hfe from which all the music of 
humanity has gone. If it is hollow or diseased at the core, 
even pleasure is only explosive and instantaneous, and the 
uotigh of the wave of reaction is too deep and broad. This sex- 
ual cause of neurasthenia. " in the morning hectic, in the even- 
ing elcclric," makes life a living death, fur all sin cither is or 
H measured by the degradation of this function. 

The soul of the normal mother now slowly turns toward the 
child and toward the future, and the father, whom she original- 
ly reclaimed from feral, roving loves, later follows. Marital is 
tnlarged to filial love, and the affections are slowly pivoted 
orer into alincment with the race and its interests. The 
flni^Ie for the life of others, which has taken the place of that 
for individual existence, now includes the family and is triune. 
Qiildhood is studied by sympathy through all stages of the 
miracle of growth. In the lower animal series, parents die in 
the exercise of the reproductive function. Many animal 
mothers neA'cr see their children, who are orphanetl before 
birth, but now womb, cradle, nursery, home, family, relatives, 
sdiool, church, and state arc only a series nf larger cra<lles or 
placenta, as the soul, like the chambered nautilus, builds itself 
larger mansions, the only test and virtue of which is their 
service in bringing the youth to ever fuller maturity. 

Wedlock and the family arc thus all conditioning. Tliey 
most be perfect because they are symbols and tj-pcs of life. 
These masterpieces are the choicest products, so far as evolution 
is yet itself evolved, of the history of the world, which is at 
root a love story. Defect here destroys an organ of knowledge, 
for the larger institutions are created in its image and can be 
rightly known only through It. Without children, love is in- 
comi)lete. If woman is not satisBed. and grows mannish and 
usumes the functions of the other sex as her rights, it is be- 
cause man is a failure and has not met her highest needs of 
body and soul, or both ; and if he degenerates, and cither be- 



comes feminine or relapses to his prcdomesticaled stage and 
ceases to be primarily Jiiisband. it is because she no longer is 
primarily wife and mother. That religion and sex are in close 
psychological relation the world knows well. This is seen 
even in their abnormalities and in the acute attunement of the 
adolescent soul to the former. This stage of life is the accepted 
time when the teachers of all faiths have found their cliicf op- 
portunity, as appears at length in another chapter. Christianity 
has exercised its salvatory and sot erio logical power in the world 
because it rescued love by deployinfj it upon a higher plane 
and building a temple where vice makes a sewer. It is this upon 
which the claim.s of Christianity chiefly rest. It is tiiis tliat 
makes the Jewish-Christ tan story, and it aflfects the very heart 
of human history, the record of the supreme achievement of our 
race thus far. and our Bihlc its pedagogic masterpiece. 

V. The chief reason why our Bible is the best of all ethnic 
Bibles is because it is so deeply based upon genetic truth. The 
stor>' of creation is full of ancient and subtle symbols of dixHnc 
generation. The tale of Eden and the fall, whatever historical 
validity it may or may not have, is a masterly allegory of the 
first stage in the decadence of love. Abraham, a nomad shetk, 
was a breeder of cattle, and the promise was that he should 
be a breeder of men like the stars of the heavens for multitude. 
Circumcision was a hygienic measure of great eflicacy, as we 
shall see, as well as a covenant. The long wars with the 
Canaanites and Baal worshiiiers were conflicts with phallicisra, 
to the gross oi^ies of which the diosen people were always 
lapsing. All early Hebrew history shows that while man 
knows how to breed cattle, Jehovah could brec^l men, and it is 
a study of human heredity far nuire effective than Plato knew 
how to make it. The Nc^v Testament begins with the annun- 
ciation and concejjtion from on high, and a nursery scene of 
moving bucolic power, while Islam hypostatizes only the for- 
mer. We glimpse the hero, at the dawn of puberty, in the 
temple, turning, as is germane to gifted souls at this stage, 
to the great themes of religion. One at least of his tempta- 
tions was probably fleshly, hut gloriously overcome. He dies 
at the acme of prolonged adolescence, nubility, and ideal perfec- 
tion. Moiherliood is idealized in the adoration of Mary, who 
has lost none of the charm of vii^inity, but combines tlie two 



into unique glory. God is our Father and Iieavcniy Parent, and 
the Gospel is through and ilirough a fiicral deification of love 
as the chief thing in the world. Paul's teaching culminates in 
his enthronement of charity, which is love fulfilling all the law. 
Cehbac}' and asceticism were long thought the Christian service 
most ad majorcm Dei gloriam. The logos or spirit of wisdom, 
which made the world, was spermatic; all the doctrines of 
conversion and customs of confirmation arc prefigured in the 
nature and the needs of adolescence. Liturgies arc full of 
adoration and passionate declarations of love to God. Thus 
the great work of Jesus was, when all else save love alone was 
dead, to create the world from this vital germ. 
■ Psychologically, religion and love rise and d^enerate to- 

gether. One test of an age, race, or civilization is to keep 
these two as near as love and death are to each other, and in 
as wholesome relations. Sclileiermacher deduces theology and 
religion alike from a sense of absolute dependence, which al- 
most suggests Massochistic longings toward the tr.^nscendent. 
The same erethic diathesis appears in Swedenborg, to whom, 
after the severest conflicts with lust, heaven opened with 
bedonic raptures as epiphanies have often come to saints who 
abandon themselves to heaven. We must love God with all 
the heart, soul, mind, and strength, because he can only be 
known by love and not by arguments from design or sufficient 
reason or cause, and if we do so aright we shall not make him 
a love fetish or idol, a transcendent or extraneous personality, 
nor shall we approach him with phallic ecstasy or parusia 
mania or many of the arts of pious eroticism, but we shall real- 
ize tlial he is the must immanent of all things, and that the 
higher monotheism is not altogeliicr separable from the higher 
pantheism. We shall not love him on Siuidays only, or in 
dreams apart from life as sexual love is narrowed to fetishistic 
perversion, but by a life like Aboii ben Adhem's, devoted to the 
service of the race, that great Being the lightest whisper from 
whose soul " moves us more than all the ranged reason of the 
world." Because he is love, love only can know its own. 
Prayer will not be a ceremonial ritual, adulation, or petition, 
hut simply approximation and desire, on the principle that " he 
prayeth best who lovclh best all things both great and small." 
Miracle will no longer be a term reserved for a series of facts 



choicely isolaterl from organic connection with nature or life, 
but will be best seen in the wonder and awe felt for all nature 
and perhaps especially for growth, while revelation will be 
truth cherished with irresistible conviction as its criterion. 
All longings for immortality wil! not be satisfied with the per- 
petuation of the shell of our selfish selves, but will focus on our 
immortal race as its true and proper object, with the larger 
pers(jective of all being in the background. 

In the later sections of his ethics, the God- in toxica ted 
Spinoza chanicterizes the intellectual love of his pantheistic 
God, which is simply nature known sub sffccic eternitatis, as 
giving freedom, salvation, blessedness, joy, and immortality, 
and which can only be known by love. For all ontological 
Minnesingers of the love of God, it is eternal life to know him. 
Philosophy is a noetic Kros or impulse of the soul to return to 
its preexistent state, of which all things mortal remind it. It 
is the passion for general ideas, but because these transcend all 
particulate e.xistcnce it is the contemplation of death or a real 
Thanatopsis, and death, as the counterpart of love which never 
seems so black as when contrasted with it, has been the great 
stimulus to thought. Thus the heart makes the theologian, and 
if its impulses are strong and good, must impel him to some- 
times believe the absurd just in proportion as his heart trans- 
cends his head, and is a more adequate organ of response to the 
universe. The supernatural in religion, therefore, is the homo- 
logue of the idealization of the mistress in whom, despite her 
defects, the lover sees all perfection. As tlie soul of the rapt 
Yogi reaches the mystic On and hovers on (he edge of ab- 
sorption and the extinction of personality, he may pause and 
hark back for a moment only at the call of love. All else per- 
ishes, but it endures, for love in the Sanskrit hynniology is the 
spring of mind, and without it all things are as a root out of 
dry ground. 

Jesus was the consummate artist in this field, for he with- 
stood the contemplative passion which has irradiated so much 
of the best hunian motive power in the world into the inane 
infinite, and addressed himself to what we so sadly now need 
again in terms less fossilized by convention, the reincarnation 
of love. It is reassuring to find that what either the individual 
or the race originated at an age when the feelings and instincts 



arc strongest and the intellect is undeveloped is reaffirmed by 
the latter when it comes to its full flower; that if fashions in 
oriljodoxies change, it is because all these are stagings which 
must always be slowly changed or demolished as the great 
spiritual temple of religion is being reared in the heart Our 
scripture will itself be regenerated and re-revealed as tlie record 
of man's highest insights into the meaning, and his most prac- 
tical utilization of his own life, which far transcends anj-thtng 
known to modem psychology and ethics, and all chiefly because 
it recognized love as the central power in the snul and presented 
th patterns and precepts how, instead of a way of death, it 
]<I open up a way of life. 
VI. The fact that love sensitizes the soul to the influences 
of nature makes it a genetic factor in the evolution of art, liter- 
ature, natural religion, and perhaps to some extent of science. 
The lover is moved not only by his mistress's form, features, 
and every act, but associates her with a larger environment, 
almost every item of which may reflect her to his fancy, senti- 
ment, or both. lie is at the mercy of the weather. She may be 
cold and chill as death, while he is burning or melting in a 
flame with his blood lava, or alternating from the torrid to the 
frigid zone of passion, while climate and environment in poetry 
and romance are always propitious, and tlie effects of nature are 
increased by Uic descending series of her absence, refusal, or 
death. The lovesick swain l)orrcws the poet's heart and brain, 
or the artist's eye and hand. In four hundred love poems and 
songs, aquatic piK-iioniena anil metaphors aboimd. His heart 
sings of her as the shell ever murmurs of the sea. His [jassion, 
or her breast, ebbs and flows like the tides. Us waves break 
and Irtirst like billows u]>on the shore. He would live in an 
ocEan of love, " as fishes tipple in the deqj." I-ove draws him, 
while the ocean mirrors his ardors as it reflects the sky. He 
would glide with her over .liunlit waves with sails of taffeta and 
mast's of beaten gold, or, if disappointed, would settle into un- 
known depths where old Silenus sank. Lovers' suicides arc 
often by drowning. The holy water of affection laves the soul 
and stills its thirst. The course of love runs like a river be- 
tween flower)* banks or plunges over a cataract, for love is bom 
out of and came up from the sea. 

The lover is in special rapport with the winds that grieve. 



sigh, and nnirmur. The zephyrs whisper to him of his absent 
love, the gales from the south are amorous, and the very air 
in which he gasps is wanton or lovesick. Fourteen per ccot 
of three hundreil and forty youths and maidens confessed, in a 
qucsttomiuirc, that the moon always made them want to see 
their beau or girl. It is invoked to pity those who love in vain, 
to carry messages, and has heard the confessions of wan and 
moonsick languishers in love since life was cadenced to its 
monthly rhythm. The sun burns with tlie heat of love, and 
though there is no day till Gloriann awakes, it looks dull when 
she appears, or when he " opes his golden eye "* the light from 
hers " misleads the morn." Love would be not only blind but 
aphasic without flowers, the language of which is the signa- 
ture of its diverse and myrionomous phases. The aspen, 
poppy, willow, violet, forget-me-not, lily, hyacinth, jessamine, 
eglantine, asphodel, amaranth, harebell, anemone, are states of 
mind, and the laureate of love is a fool in its college without 
the folk-lore of flowers, in terms of which all the incidents of 
courtship can be symbolically told. Philomel with her lyre of 
gold, the lark that " clinks its golden anvil at heaven's gate," 
the bulbul, the boding raven, and the amorous descant of es- 
Ijousals by a numerous choir of feathered songsters arc another 
important element in the stock vocabulary of tlie lover. In- 
deed, everything in nature responds. The sky is deep and 
cerulean like her eyes, pure as her heart, high as her purpost 
Night, stars, storm. Hghtning. moldering earth, grot and dell, 
sand and grave, rock and aU the precious slones and a copious 
fauna and flora, both real and imaginary, arc ministers of love 
Lamlscapes are vestiges oC ancient love scenes which, until 
recent times, were out-of-doors and in the country, the con- 
ventionalities of which make us recognize the sentiment in its 
stage setting before the lovers appear. When she has gone, 
" idolatrous fancy sanctifies her relics." All tilings " mind me 
of my Jean," and respond by a unique animism, the psychology 
of which has not yet been treated, to the lover's call for sym- 
pathy. They are his valentines, and the sounds of nature have 
been his cpithalamium and made the whole world a pastoral 
Arcady to him at that stage of life when 

"All ihouKhu, all passions, nil delights, whatever siIts this mortal fnOHa 
Aie bat the minivlcn of luve and feed hu ucreil ftame." 




He has the right of sanctuary everywhere, and love has cast 
out the fears of nature. If the object of affection dies, it is 
still loved " OS some diffusive power," not less, but more, for 
"so little means so much." All activities are inspired by it; 
"all journeys end in lovers' meetings," he would "make her 
glorious by his pen or famcnis by his sword," for " love rules 
the court, the camp, ihe grove, for love is God, and God is love." 
All else, save love alone, is dross, but sympathetic appreciation 
and his sultry tropical heart irradiate the world, while poetic 
license allows most of all liberties in amatory literature and 
archaic symlx>lisms of hearts (hat melt and freeze, or heart- 
strings that make melody or break in a way physiology knows 
not of. While he may lie '* in folly ripe, in reason rotten "— 
for love is known by follies and Jo^-e laughs at lovers' per- 
juries, and the whole world. Ijoth of science and mythology, 
is at his command — still love is often so hard a master that it 
can express itself only interject ion ally with woe alack and well- 
a-day, or sigh like a furnace or congeal .with reserve, because 
life is so brief and love so long. 

This golden stage when life glisters and crepitates, altliough 
it may fade like nuptial plumage or fall like ripe petals when 
the fruit and seed begin to set, has wrought a great work in 
tile soul and infected it with love of beauty everywhere. It is 
the vernal season of the heart and the greatest of alt stimuli 
fur tlic imagination. It opens the worKI of fancy which is su- 
perposed up<jn that of reality, and which is the totalizing faculty 
that supplements the limitations of individuality and makes 
the age of love the natal hour of esthetic appreciation. ."Krt is 
certitnly in part, though not wholly, a higher potency and 
plateau of love, a dilTerent stage or degree and a higher move- 
ment by the same momentum. If appreciation is a less degree 
of the same power that creates, and the perfect lover is always 
a poet, then art is not for its own sake, hut for that of love, 
which should ripcii into it. The author of Rembrandt ats 
Enieher is in essential accord with Vachon. who has made 
The most comprehensive of all reports on the present condition 
tif art. that most of the great creative minds have achieved 
farm, not by representing impressions acquired after maturity 
had been attained or those derived from an environment un- 
Euniliar to them in youth, but with themes they loved in the 



lectis and early twenties. If so, this shows that the deepest 
ami largest impressions arc made during adolescence, which 
we know from other sources is most plastic and richest in 
mcmorj* pictures. Conversely, if enthusiasm for nature is not 
then enjrendercd. the soul remains an alien and Philistine 
through life to all the higher raptures of art. Its holy spirit 
now knocks at the door of every heart, although its day of 
grace may be sinned away. 

Perhaps we shall never know whether the first song or rude 
drawing was in the service of love, but wc know that it has 
done and can do great things creatively. The Taj Malial, per- 
haps the most exquisite of all poems in marble, scores of fu- 
neral crealitins in music, poetry, and eulogy of the dead almost 
to apotheosis, at least one. and that perhaps the greatest, 
French system of philosophy, and firarnas by the score, have 
been inspired by and de<licated to loved ones. Moreover, the 
world so loves lovers that the description of their experiences. 
real and imaginary, has been perhaps the most prolific of all 
modern themes in romance and literature, and certainly none 
has such power to unify to one sharp focus so many diverse 
incidents anri chnracters. extending over such ranges of time 
and especially space. As love inspires animals to make bur- 
rows, nests, and homes, without hands, so many of the greatest 
creations have Ijecii a kind of metaphysical bower-building for 
those whom the artisl loves. The eternally feminine in some 
woman makes her his Beatrice, leading him to the highest 
regions of thought for her sake and for her delectation, as the 
head strives to overtake the heart which has outgrown it. In- 
deed, love is essentially creative, as well as procrcative, and 
the great makers have probably nearly all l>ecn great lovers, 

VII. Ethics as a science, and morals as a life, have as their 
chief purpose to bring man into alinement with the laws of 
love, whether we are concerned with the minor morals of eti- 
quette or with ultimate sanctions of good. Plato could not 
separate beauty and goodness, and our endeavor is to raise the 
altruism of race to the level of parenthood. For the new ethics 
we can easily conceive a new scale or hierarchy of virtues. 
which, provisional as it is, may be of service as an erotoineter. 

h'irst, of course, comes selfishness normal to chiltlren, whose 
bodies and minds must be fed and whose individualities must 

adOi.escent lo\t^ 

be developed to their culmination. Here belong miidi of the 
current utilitarianism and the principle of Giiyau of the max- 
imalization of the ego to its imint of highest perfection. Es- 
sential as this is in its nascent stage, no instinct perhaps is more 
prone to hypertrophy. This may appear in the tendency, which 
only Max Stimer in recent times has had the har<hliood to 
formulate. Its principle is: I will get, lie, do the most possible 
for myself, no matter how otliers suffer, provided only I am not 
found out and made to suffer myself. It may be naive epi- 
cureanism with a veritable itch for pleasures of sense. Where 
self-know te<lgc and self-reverence are no Innger ciirlted by self- 
criticism, m<)<Iesty. or sanity, it appears in ninrbid delusitms of 
greatness. Here belong all the ethical precepts of those virtues 
that arc primarily self -regarding, and in its higher ranges life 
appears from this standpoint as enhghtened selfishness. The 
toot, however, of most failures is that self-interest is not well 
and largely understood, for when it is, it merges into higher 

The second stage is entered upon always without this later 
ailcquate knowledge, and appears in friendship and especially 
in love of the opposite sex. The history of friendship/ which 
in Uie sense of Aristotle and Cicero has no doubt been en- 
croached on by modern love, sliows how it stimulates honor, 
knowledge, high ambition, and may be one of the great joys 
of life. Homodoxia, or opinions held in common : homonoia, 
sentiments mutually shared; mastropia, the art of acquiring 
frinuls and making one's self liked; loyalty and even Platonic 
friendship between the sexes, like that of Waldemar and Hen- 
rictte. whose high intercourse of soul was for a time perturbed 
by the fear of love, where each human moiety finds its counter- 
part or helps the other on to perfection, and which can only 
exist between the good — these are its highest forms. So in the 
mistress the lover sees another self, and with her would cstab- 
tiih an enlarged selfishness for two. .\bel * and Brinton ' have 
puinted out that the etymologies of most words signifying love 

^SfCDngu: L'Amitle Antique. I'Arit. 1H94, p. 454. 

*Ln^«lc Esuyi. The Conception of l,oTe in Some Anciont and Modern 
UaeiueM. p 15. 

'brinun: Eauys nf ftn Anerianisl. The Conceplion o( Love in SomeAmcn. 
(MLin{U(es, p. 410. 


in ancient and modern languages mean identities, sameness, 
likeness, fusion, niutnal reflection, want, desire, preference, or 
precious values. The chief Peruvian tongue is called " prob- 
ably the richest language on the continent, not only in separate 
words denoting affection, but in modifications of these by im- 
parting to them delicate shades of meaning through the addi- 
tion of particles/' for It has "nearly six hnndrcd combinations 
of the word 7nu)iay^to love." Fundamental as this is, it is 
always ]>rotcnsive toward something higher, as appears even in 
such more or less rahulistic descriptions of it as by Michclet, 
Stendhal, Mantegazza, and even Finck, perhaps the best of his 

Love of children is a third and higher stage, which may 
extend down to the unborn, up to the last stage of adolescence, 
and on to posterity. The test of the virtue of life is to produce 
and bring to maturity the best children, who shall themselves 
be most prolific in body and soul. From this standpoint it is 
trite to say that there is nothing so worthy of love and service 
as children for whom we must live, and virtue now consists in 
not evading or laying too much of this function upon tlie nurse, 
school, or church, as the cnckoo lays its eggs in nests built by 
other birds and allows them to incubate and feed its own 

The community is a larger object of service and devotion. 
The state was never so dependent as to-day upon those vestals 
of charity who teach young children and project their own 
lives and all the love that nature intended for the family into 
the young, who mnst first of all be loved in order to be rightly ■ 
taught. The school is a larger home, and the teacher should 
be a parent raised to a higher potence. Even in its advanced 
stages cdiication ought to be " friends seeking happiness to- 
gether." as Epicurus is said to have defined it. The Greek boy 
had to awaken by every means in his power the love of some 
mature nian, who would instruct and apprentice him to life, and 
not to do so was a disgrace. The teacher was inspired first by 
a love of liis pupil's fair l)ody and manners to fumith his soul. 
The four great schools in the later historyof Greece were homo- 
geneous, because based on friendship, and this scntimciit only 
could give spirit, untie tlie tongue, double pleasure, halve pain, 
and open the heart so that teacher and taught could be true 


speaking to each other with as little reserve as to their 
veifv selves. The teacher was inspire^i to do nothing unworthy 
o£ the respect and idealization which he sought to engender. 
He should make the pupil not only all that he is himself, but 
more, as the good parent would make his children what he was 
unable to l)ecome, and all should teach. Morals was the chief 
theme, ami the teacher's ttfe must be a constant and inspiring 
object-lesson in virtue. It was because this relation was so 
&acre<l to affection that pay seemed prostitution. Phillips' 
has shown how e<lucaticn is the complement of procreation and 
increases the repro«]uctive sacrifice and rapture. Patriotism, 
which is ready to serve or even to die for one's country, is only 
a larger aspect of this stage of love now dimmed and oriented, 
because the state has drifted from its old gentile sense of an 
enlarged family and liecome an organized method of securing 
liberty, liappiness, and property. 

Tlie fifth stage- is iovc of the race or enthusiasm for human- 
ity, the ^'grattd etre " that Conite thought the most worthy of 
service and worship. Philanthropy, which ministers to the 
poor and neglected and would save outcasts, or go on missions 
to dispense the goods of religion, and which ought to be stimu- 
lated by all monophyletic theories of the origin of man. is just 
now greatly reenforccd by a new cosmic sense, when expansion 
is not merely a new political dream, but includes the whole 
world, worships heroes wherever ilicy appear, and deems no 
human interest alien to itself. The Hindu sage, who is tender 
lo the lowest forms of life, whether from natural goodness of 
heart or on transmigration theories, St. Francis, who called 
flowers, worms, birds, and insects his brothers and sisters, and 
the modern evolutionist, who sees cverj- species, man included, 
as but diflfcrent branches of one great family tree, illustrate 
bow adequate love is lo a yet larger object, and what a palpi- 
tating sensorium the heart of man is to everything that lives. 
Altruism may go farther yet and embrace nature or all 
tnaterial existence, from every aspect of which the love which 
goes with knowledge is gradually casting out fear. JetTries. 
*Ik> baried his face in the grass and prayed to be absorbed in 
dK whole universe: the higher animism, which sees not only 

'TIm Teaching iBillnct. Fed. Sem,. March, iSttg, vol. vi, pp. 1(^246, 



life, but psychic properties and even personality in stars, stones, 
clomls, and sea ; the paiilheist. (Iiat conceives the visible universe 
as simply an incaniattun, anil the man of science, who wouhi 
make liis brain tlie oracle even of any rlcpartmenl of the grand 
wbole of existence, have reached a yet bigher standpoint. 

Perhaps no individual or race passes through all these stages 
in the pbenumenulogy of love, for neither a single pcrstmal nor 
even one ethnic soul is large enough to rto justice to lliein all. 
Bui lung before this viaticum is open, the niiinl niothilaics over 
into the field of transcendence and projaculates gods, heavens, 
hells, and ideals, or, if more philosophical, hypostatizes ideas 
of goodness, truth, and beauty.' 

The final stage is love of being or of all that exists, visible 
and invisible. The onlological passion aihninates thus in a 
mystic devotion to the absohite in which self is forever nierg<d 
and swallowed up, and the mind and life find their supreme 
virtue tn anticipating and accepting with joy their inevitable 
final f:ite. 

Banausic as it would Iw to insist that these stages are final, 
I can see only in something of this kind the outcome of 
the larger interpretations which tlie Symposium first rndely 
glimpsed, which Zeller and Schteiermacher sought to bring into 
conformity with modern knowledge, and which others^ since 
have striven in diff"erent ways tn vindicate or to develop. 

VIII. Even knowledge at its best is a form of love. Inter- 
est is intellectual love, and one of the Iwst tests of education is 
the number, intensity, and di.'itribution of interests, while one of 
its best definitions is to teach us to delight in what we should. 
Even philosophy is not the possession, but the love and wooing 
of wisdom. C. S. Peirce" conceives " agapastic " k-nowledgc 

' S«e Th» Xew Psycholo)^, my inaugnral address bi Johns llupkhvt. An- 
dovcr Keview, vol. itt, pp. 110-135, *39-^3*- Also my Aipecls of Ceritiui Cut- 
tUiG, p. 189. 

) .See M. Koch : Problem der Eroiik. i8.%; H. HLUe: Ueber die plKtontsche 
Lchre voin Eros. LJeKiiiiK. iSqi. C. Boelttscher : Eros und ErkenniiiU* bci Tiato 
<who would cuordioote the Ly^isaitdihe Phwdrus). Ucrliii. 1894. Wachier: Die 
Licbe als k^rpcrlichseclkche KrnfiiibertrsKuii};, 1^99. Wynekeii : Aitkit tnCvUntH 
Dei. Mine rcIitfMspbilos. Scndic, 189S. Sanuyana : PUtcnlc Love ia some luliau 
Po«i» — V. in his Poetry and Kellsluo. 1900. 

* Kvoluiianaiy L.ove. Montst. Jauufliy. 1893. S«?e also his Man's GU»y 
Euence. Monisi, October, 189) ; and his t.nw of Mind, MonUl, July, i8qs. 



as its highest type. By this phrase he means immerliate sym- 
pathetic insight where the object or i<lea has an instant attrac- 
tion for the niind by s>'nipathy ; where the subject knows, recog- 
nizes, anrl closes in with its own. perhaps with an irresistible 
conviction like that of tlic Stoics, without waiting for any criti- 
cal test or coordination with other mental contents. If intuitive 
certainty thus furnishes the mind with opinions not logically 
harmonized, this itself is a spur to thought and a suret>' against 
stagnation. The term includes growth from within and that 
love of and confidence in one's own productions which is a part 
of the creative power of genius, and even if its own origina- 
tions seem freaks or sports to the systematizer or to current 
opinion, they are but true spontaneities of the development of 
the race which has its own logic of mental growth and con- 

Further, we owe to Horwicz ' the view that organized truth, 
whether in science or philosophy, finds its ultimate criterion in 
a sentiment, viz.. that of conviction. Tliis at bottom is estlietic, 
because the logical or scientific order pleases the mind best 
Thissatisfaction is not Avanarius's most economic way of think- 
iog the universe by grouping the largest number of facts under 
(he simplest formula, but may be partly due to the feeling that, 
while the universe might !« so vast as to have no order or char- 
acter assignable by the mind, it is in fact not only lawful to 
tfie core but the whole macrocosm is only the mind writ large. 
One of man's supreme passions is to conceive the universe as 
one. the gods as one, and even to postulate an ultimate monism 
to make the *' All " a unitary fact. 

Again, for those who deem the relation of the individual 
to the world the supreme question of knowledge, whether from 
the standpoint of Shater' or of Koyce.' as well as for all who 
are impelled to rise from the manifoUlness of sense to the unity 
of reason, the platonic love motive is probably at bottom the 
animating principle. The self i.s a hint or image of the .Absolute 

*tvf. AiutjrsaB. Enter Thdl. i8ra. p. 376. Zwtiter Tbcil, i8j6, p. i8> 
MnerlVil. (878, p. 514. 

' TV Individiul : A StDdy of U(e and Death, by N. S. Sha]er. New York. 
1901. AImG. a. H'ynekcn. Amor LVi Inlcllcctualis, c;rcifswald, 1898. 

'The World and the IndivMua], by Josiah Roycc. 



or Divine. We and the world exist just in the d^ree in which 
we press to our perfect goal of union with God. But for this 
passion the world would be indifferent or dead, for the infinite; 
and eternal are as closely associated with love, which first made 
man metaphysical and transcendent, as light is associated with 
heat. 'Ilie conversion or turning from sense to reason under 
the stress of the gnostic passion is a tnie euthanasia, or rather 
the apotheosis, by absorption of the mind, which is individual^ 
in the cosmos. 

Especially In all the sciences that deal with life, recent prog- 
ress has been, step by step, the progressive recognition of Rros. 
All the work of Dar^vin, and especially the place he assigns to 
sexual selection ; Weismann's coronation of the supremacy of 
the germ over the somatic cells; the reconstructions in botany 
based on growing knowledge of methods of fertilization; the 
recapitidation theory that the individual repeats the history of 
his phylum ; the derivation of society and the state, from the 
clan or other origins always gentile: the growing recognition 
by psychology that, as the will is larger than the intellect, so the 
instinct and feelings are at the root of both reason and wiU; 
the new discovery of the profound meaning of adolescence; 
gradual psychic embryology and the development of the genetic 
versus the logical order and standpoint — ^all these show how the 
knowledge of life is at root the kuowleilge of love, and tliat the 
tatter is really the goal as well as tlie spring of mtnd. The 
world has always vaguely understood how love quickens com- 
prehension and how the heart fertilizes the intellect, but the 
full significance of love as an organ of apperception is new. 
We do not need to reason, prove, or demonstrate in perfect 
detail, hut love identifies from afar; it grows or languishes on 
tropes, metaphors, or hints unconsciously given and received. 
Wlien the temple of science, which is the greatest creation of 
the human race thus far, is near enoiigh complete to reveal its 
true proportions, no smalt part of its ministry to life will be 
the esthetic joy of contemplation. The lives of great discov- 
erers show that they were animated to their work by a passion- 
ate love of some department of nature without which no excel- 
lence is possible. Those who lack it arc the sopliists, scribes, 
literalists, and commentators, or minds that go to seed in 
method, technique, and mechanical classification without mat- 



ter. In all these ways, therefore, science justifies the ways of 
love to man. 

In fine, from a broad biological standpoint, we conclude in 
review that every experience of body or soul bears on heretlity, 
and the best life is that which is best for the unbom. Ideal 
conduct is that which first develops the individual and then 
subordinates it to tlic larger interests of the race. At few 
points are consciousness and theory so inferior to higher un- 
conscious instinct, which is still the chief regulative of all per- 
taining to the transmission of life. Education culminates in 
training for condition for the function. This is the highest 
criterion. Just so far as we owe what we are to the long line 
of ancestors from whom our life is derived, so the interests of 
posterity should be the highest, most pervasive, and most con- 
trolling ethical motive, and our current instruction in morals 
tfaoutd be recQnstructe<l and rebased to this end. 

More specifically, the act of impregnating the ovum is the 
most important act of life. By it the entire monienluni of 
growth is given and upon it completeness of developnienl of the 
offspring is conditione<i. To make this intense and give an 
inheritance that is all-sided and total, nature seems to require, 
in ways and for reasons which biology does not yet fully under- 
stand, special prc-nuptial activities known as courtship, wooing, 
channing. falling in love, etc. These preliminaries are some- 
what analogous to secondary sexual qualities, and of both it 
may be said that the more we know of life the wider they arc 
found to extend. They have been described among shigs, 
snails, spiders, moths, many insects, an<l various species of fish, 
and arc highly developed among birds, as the ostrich, cow-bird, 
Argus pheasant, the tyrant and marsh birds which show off 
their charms, sing, balz. tremble, and tumble to rouse the 
pairing instinct in the female and also in themselves. So 
among many primitive people courtship consists in singing, 
dancing, plays and games, mimic warfare, or in elaborate toilet, 
ofttq with a suggestive generative pantomime growing more 
and more fervent and solicilative. which Ellis thinks pro- 
Tocalive of a state of tumescence,' with a normal climax in 
cciUon. Such dances, as he well says, are the most complex 



and intense of all forms of muscular, and he might have added 
of psychic, activity. Every part of the body is involved, and 
that almost at the same time. There is laug-hter, shouting', 
jubilation, ardor, frenzy, violence almost epileptic, motor 
drunkenness and enormous output of energy and orgy, and 
often force itself becomes erogenic. 

Among higher races the jwychic preliminaries are more 
and the physical less. Love broods, sentimentalizes, poetizes, 
and perhaps philosophizes. The preludes are more manifold 
and also more prolonged. The variety of stimuli increases and 
the range of associations widens. Perhaps this is in some way 
necessary for the most effective propagation of the iiighcr men- 
tal, moral, and esthetic qtTalities. The religious instincts are 
more involved and marriage is more ceremonial, the arts of 
persuasion are more elaborate and those of reluctance, modesty, 
and coyness more formal. Love has more delicious romance 
and often lingers long in the forecourts of its temple. To 
onianiL'nt, dance, and music, it adds love courts, jousts, more 
developed dances, pious rites and services, till sometimes this 
anticipatory stage of imaginative ideality may be so intense 
and prolonged that the realities of married life suffer and pale. 

If this fore-school of love be necessary to the complete ful- 
filment of its object, we can now appreciate its degradations in 
lazy, loveless, overrefined individuals, ages, or races, well 
matched by theories no less decadent. The view of Montaigne^ 
More, and Fere,' that the genesic impulse is at root one of 
evacuation, and even that of Moll, who urges that detumescence 
is primnl, strikes hands with the idea so current among youth 
of to-day, especially if depraved, that the glands must be dis- 
charged and their secretion eliminated from the system. This 
vulgar concept is as unsatisfactory scientifically as it has been 
deip-astating morally; it has been not only the exaise but the 
incentive to immeasurable vice, and has ai<led to an enormously 
exaggerated idea of the difiicHlties of continence. The very 
fact, brought out so clearly by Guinard '^ and others, that cas- 
tration, especially after mature age, often does not lessen but 
may even increase the desire, is because in man, the latter, being 

' S« L'Instinct Sc«uel, Paris, 1899. 

* Dictioniialrc de Physiut., nrt. CnitTuCiu-n. 



more widely irradiatnl, has more stiiimli or more modes of ex- 
pression $0 that it readily becomes mure ami more independent 
ill both sexes ot any of the various forms anci degrees of abla- 
tion. Tlie motive of merely relieving organic pressure tends 
to degrade tlie act to its very lowest jMissible level, seen in mas- 
turbation; it also involves the most degra<iing view of woman, 
and ignores the fact of the necessity and high developmental 
power of control and of maintained sex tension. 

So, too, chemical theories of sex like those of Joanny Roux * 
and several American writers, who base the instinct on protCK 
plasmic hunger, and often fitly represent it as mediated in 
man Ijy the degenerate sense of smell, are utterly inadequate at 
least for hiunan psychology. Inde«l. in the lowest forms of 
life, nutritive and sexual needs have only remote analogies 
chiefly attractive to .symbolists. Dominant as the function of 
germ cells is, especially in lower forms, man loves not only 
with the whole l»dy and its everj* organ, but witli the whole 
soul and its ever>' faculty, and human love nee<l3 added rubrics 
above those in the animal world. So, too, the view that it 
has an exclusive region in the brain is at Iwst very partial in 
new of all the evidence. Even the work of Moll and of Ellis, 
to whom we owe most, courageous and indefatigable as it is, 
deals so much with the undeveloped or perverted manifesta- 
tioQS of this instinct that their thenries, luminous and highly 
suggestive as they are, seem so far too somatic, and therefore 
partial and inadequate, to explain the higher and normal mani- 
festations of love. As the popular mind tends to become vio- 
lent and extreme about this subject, so men of science still in- 
cGne to remote, speculative vict\'s which, while useful as pro- 
tests against narrow and crude ideas, are still inadequate to 
explain " the greatest thing in the world." Possibly sex will 
oner be regulated solely in the interests of reproduction ac- 
cording to the best attainable knowledge. Certainly the sects, 
cokmies, and individuals who have so far sought to ^o so have 
attained neither stirpi cultural results of value nor knowledge 
that gives them scienlific respectability, Turgcscence and its 
provocatives, discharge and its intense sensations, and flaccldlty 
WiJ all its psychic correlates of reaction, whether apathetic or 

' PsjchoIogicdel'InitiBCt ScEBcl. Paris, 1899. 



violent, arc the innst convenient handles yet fcwiitl for the vast 
masses of plicnuincna involveil, Init the greatest ncc<l, !M>th 
practical and scientific, can be met only when higher and wider 
irradiations of these three processes, especially ihe first, are 
more clearly traced in thei'r relations to the general conduct of 
life and mind, to religion, art, and esthetics, and even to scien- 
tific activity. While it is no part of our purpose here to discuss 
general theories of sex in detail, \vc may at least record a grow- 
ing and already irresistible conviction that great and hitherto 
unsuspected light is to be shed upon the genetic psychology of 
all ihcsc fields by the new studies of sex now so well advanced. 
Till then, while wc may breed cattle, we can not breed men. 

About this great theme, despite the precious new glimpses 
and the wide mobilization toward the great advances in knowl- 
edge of it that seem to impend, no one can feel more painfully 
than I the inadequacy of such rude attempts as the alxjve to 
delineate a standpoint which, from the nature of the case, can 
not yet entirely transcend llie realm of crude allegory and meta- 
phor. One might parody life as a stream from high mountain 
ranges which wring it from the clouds, coursing down tlirough 
all the manifold ways in which the water comes down at Lodore 
to the sea of eternity. Adolescence is the chief rapids in this 
river of life which may cut a deep canon and leave its shores 
a desert. Eduailioiiiil methods, from those of the statesman 
and llic religious foumler to those of the artist and man of sci- 
ence, and even the pedagogue, are hydrographic engineering 
which buiEds a series of well-located and wcll-dcviscd dams to 
irrigate wide arid areas or turn the mills of life, or that its 
floods be stored up against drought and need, so that nothing 
is lost. Seepage is the waste of licensed vice in otherwise happy 
families or prosperous civilizations. The rich alluvium of cus- 
tom and tradition, once rank with a life now gone and for- 
gotten, is the soil or mold from the broad acreage of which 
culture in all its departments and the most precious values of 
life grow toward a harvest. Marshes are forme<l of the rich 
body of myth am! custom, like the coal-measures from which 
higher utilities may be extracted. Alkaline dead sea plains 
of phallic detritus may he deposited. The village teacher is 
like the small farmer in Utah, who carefully turns his tiny pipe- 





NalUfc a, new world nt adolescence, mad luve ol nature &s the basis of art, Uteralarc, 
religion, and >ctence — The age of lymboliim, allegory — llie old jihilosophy of 
□atUTc and llie l^tiu feeling — Age* uf i;unventiunality — l^tmgcrs o( premature 
DvmenclatQie ond maihemntici — Slwly of itructuie wilhuui function^Vouih 
the htiinaniilic *lage ol science — l^^icol vtrivs genetic orilcr — A new rcnaiA- 
uncc oi liberal education in Dalure-Ktady — The present elimination uf a pre- 
ctons late »ini;« w( p»ycliic developineQi — Geography a» an cocmy of science — 
Method of deter mining ihe genetic order— A few ba*ic priiidplcs only estab- 
lished yet — The place of uiititie* and application of science— Tlic status of high 
school physicK a* uiie iltuKtration of blindness to genetic laws— How to rescue 
it from present dctailence — The stage of the nature religions find their present 
practical significance — Adolescent changes oHccling (or (i) boundless sptce 
and time. (}) the stars, (j> tlie sun and light and darkness, (4) the moon, (j) 
clouds, (6) wind and air, (7) heat and cold, (8| sea and water. I9) rocks and 
stones, <io)AoM^rs, (it) trees, ii2\ animals — llie retution in oil th»e fields 
betweeo science and poetry, myth and rdigion, and educoijoual utiUzalioD and 
pfychogviieiic inferences. 

Of all the changes normal at adolescence, none are nwre 
comprehensive and perhaps none arc now more typical of the 
psychic transformation of this age than those that occur in the 
attitude toward the various aspects uf nature. Before. Ihese are 
naively learned, pragmatically accepted, and animistically inter- 
preted, for life and especially its sentient forms are best known 
and most inlerestiiiy and so give apperceptive norms for all that 
is inanimate. The domain of law is limited and superstition 
flourishes. But when the cpbcbic sun dawns and the springs 
of a malurcr mental life How. the old world begins to seem 
strange and new. What things seem is not all of them, but 
there is something more behind and other meanings strive to 
reveal themselves. It was from this auroral state of mind, I 
ween, that the term natura. "the about to be bom," arose. 
There is a new expectancy that her Memnonian lips will open 
and the heart begins to hum the only song of ancient Horus, 



" Hush, all hush, and sec." We have known the countenance, 
but wouM now know the sout of the great all-mother. Every- 
ftiiijf is pregnant, and things about us seem to fairly cry out 
for some higher explanation. Phenomena are a veil to a great 
mystery, like a airtain to be rung up. Youth feels itself mov- 
ing about in a world xinrcalized. Perhaps the problem of the 
great Autos rests on some with a weiglit that is oppressive. 
Will the sphinx lips never open and tell the riddle of existence, 
or will it destroy us and reck not that we suffer and die? It is 
the age of brooding, and the normal courageous soul will not 
I>c baffled nor fall back, but will find or make answers — if only 
the echoes of its own questions. 

The new life is first born in the heart, and is more or less 
unconsciou.<i, and among its first spontaneous creations are 
OKtaphors that may fade and be often recreated, so that lan- 
guage itself becomes fossil poetry. Allegory gives things a 
dual meaning; symlxilism is now first possible, and a widening 
rirtic of objects and events acquire a new purport ; light, clmid, 
wa\*e, fountain, ivy, laurel, palm, heat, and scores of objects 
we no longer mere things of sense, hut ftrc words in the dic- 
tionary of psychic states and moral qualities. If myths remain, 
they are given new contexts and transformed and ennobled by 
higher uses. Thus prose is often now transmuted into poetry. 
In this way the old that had concealed now reveals the new, 
if grou-th is continuous, and thus the soul is nourished in ways 
that often seem mystical, as many species of fish subsist on 
ini-isible food. Thus every aspect and thing in nature has 
somewhere and by some race been an object of perhaps supreme 
worship. Tlic traces of these old idolatries are still found in 
tht oozes of sentiment in the depths of the soul, which, like the 
sea-bed oozes, are not inorganic but the sedimentary products 
of extinct forms of life. In the soul, too (though not in the 
sea, for here the analog}' fails), these are not only residual but 
hi\t a protoplasmal promise and i>otency of a larger and fuller 
life for modem youth. Love and enthusiasm for nature, if 
it is ever to arise, is now in order, and the open secret may 
seem ever slipping away, but revelation, although slow, is sure, 
because it comes by growth and does not depend upon the 
wlations of specific problems. All this is copiously illustrated 




How basal and aU-conrlitioning the luve of nalurc is for 
all that is best in the soul of youth the vvurld has probably 
never twgun to realize. Biography shows how nearly all the 
great creators of physical science — the greatest achievement of 
iiiai) in llie world so far — have first been passionate lovers of 
nature in their chosen field, and that tltis has been tlieir initial 
impulsion. The artist must first sec with the heart. Ruskin 
never wearies in preaching this lesson; while Vachon's vo- 
luminous report on the state of art in Europe by countries 
essentially agrees witii the unknown auLlior of Rembrandt ais 
lirzicher in two conclusions: first, that the best artists are 
tljose who conserve most completely into maturity and old age 
the sentiments and ideas of youth at its prime; and, secondly, 
that most wlio attain the highest real success are those whose 
inspiration was given by the environment in which the most 
susceptible years of youth were passed, an<! who have succeeded 
iti expressing most adequately and compIeteJy its responses to 
nflturc. The same holds in general of the early history of 
every h'teniturc that developed from an indigenous origin, for 
its first monuments are of personified objects or forces of 
nature. Again, religion sprung from nature, and to a great 
extent thrives and languishes with love or indiflFcrcncc to 
nature. Max Miiller counts some three thousand Aryan nature 
gods. After profuse polytheistic deification of nature, mono- 
theism was aided by the idea of one all-eovcring vault of 
heaven, which gave us a uni-vcrsc. and pantlicism is but the 
culmination of the religion of nature. There is no such muse 
and no such inspiration. Our brain, her mouthpiece, which she 
crentetl and in which she mirrors herself in consciousness, al- 
though it can do nothing else but interpret her. tells but a part 
of her. and she herself in turn reveals but a part of absolute 
Iicing : so there must always l»e residual mysterj* and miracle, 
demanding myth hypotheses and assumptions, shading down 
to blank nescience. Hence youth must alwaj's he asked — with 
no whit less solemnitj- than the pulpit puts the solemn question, 
"Do you love God?" — ^Do you really love nature, or will 
you retnaiu strangers and aliens to her mighty heart? Taste 
niul see that she is purest, truest, noblest. We sprang from 
her Imaiom and inherit vastly more than we ever dreamed of 
her >visdoni, and to her all that is mortal of us will return. 



*tn affliction and calamity, when conscious purpose and en- 
deavor fail, wc can sink back into her arms, and when creeds 
and philosophies fade we know that if " our bark sink, 'tis to 
bcr larger sea." She is. all law and no chaos, life abounds 
wherever life is possible, good-will is there because the best 
and not the worst survive, and youth is in a peculiar sense the 
consummate flower of nature, more worthy than anything else 
on earth, of love, re\'erencc, and devoted service.' 

Zeller finds the germ of the ancient Roman religion in the 
Latin-Sabine veneration of invisible spiritual beings tn nature; 
the solitude and gloom of the forest, the gurgling of springs, 
the crackling and leaping of flames, sky phenomena and the 
seasons — all these suggested three classes of natural forces, 
heavenly, terrestrial, and subterranean, which were poetically 
peraonitied as gods, instead of scientifically interpreted. The 
transition from these conceptions to matured ethical religion 
can nowhere lje so fully studied as among the Romans, the 
most superstitious of all civilized races, whose fundamental 
characteristic was awe of unknown forces and constraint before 
Supernatural influences.^ 

Tlic Gennan idealistic philosophy of nature by Kant, 
Fichtc. Schelling. and Hegel was haunted by this old sense of 
the divinity of nature and of the pregnancy, closeness to origins, 
many-sidedness, vitality, and inHiiite elasticity of mitthos, 
which by the Tiibingcn school was made no less orpbic and 
pervaded by a sense of the spirituality of the world than the 
hgos doctrines. Ilicre was a rich old feeling that nature was 
Cod's body and He its soul, that it is all one great apocalypse. 
Tljcre were impulses from the vernal woods, communion with 
the anima muttdi that " lives through all life, and extend.s 
lliroi^h all extent," and a deep belief that the soul gathers in 
wisdom by intuition and beauty by silent sympathy. The 
teacher of any science who feels this will forever arouse cn- 
tbosiasm, and he who does not, works on the surfaces and 

'See M. A. Hoyt : Love of Nature ; or. The Root of Tcftching uid l.caming the 
SwDea; Pcd. Sem., vol. iii, pp. 61-86. Bies«r EnCwkkelung des Naturge- 
AUi bddcn Cricchen nod R&meni: Kiel, i$8a,. p. 310. Im MiitelaJleT n, in 
^ N'eatctt. l8S5, p. 460. Also P. L«febre: La Relljjiun. Paris. 1S92. 

'See my article ue Edward ZcUer, in Contempoioiy Psychologic ts, Am. Joui: 
«'P>y„April, 1891. voi iv, pp. I56-I75- 



not in the <^lcpths of the pupil's soul, while he who vilipends 
the sentiment that unclerh'es his department, no matter how 
learned or pcdagc^ically gifted he be, robs the soul of far more 
than he gives it. 

Only those who have studied the history of poetry in this 
regard realize how remote from nature it sometimes becomes 
through a whole period of its development ; how conventional 
its treatment of natural objects; how tawdry its diction; how 
inaccurate its descriptions; and how slender its stock in trade 
of real knowledge under the combined infltiencc of city life 
and utility. Many an otherwise reputable English poet in the 
perio<l somewhat preceding Wordsworth manifested only a 
feeble color sense, and wrote as if all above was blue and all 
below green. The ocean was simply vast, solitary, awful, and 
it had to wait for Turner. Byron. Shelley, Things that could 
be smellecl and which were fit for poetry hardly needed more 
than the words fragrance and perfume. Birds were a feath- 
ered choir; tlie nightingale, and |jerhapstlic cuckoo. lark, raven, 
eagle, and peacock, were all the birds in the poet's mimiment 
chamber. The brook simply babbled and meandered, and did 
little more. The night was incid.entally invoked for the sake 
of (he moon, and perhaps of th-, stars. The flower>' mead, with 
now and then a little progress from the general toward the 
specific, the old or strong oak, whispering poplar, and perhaps 
a few other trees, quite sufficed, and these faint echoes of the 
old pastoral idyl were almost as conventionalized as Chinese 
art. Thus it was an important and a very difficult step to 
break the poetic canons or unwritten traditions and really get 
out of doors : to travel, paint, read and write fiction ; and this 
was at first with a real but pallid joy like that of a convales- 
cent's first glimpse of spring.' 

The modern pedagogy of science is tlireatened with a simi- 
lar alienation from the love of nature. Tliis is seen in three 
respects: i. Technical nomenclature whicli attaches classical 
names to objects is often thought the beginning of science. 
It brings order and makes classification possible. It is so copi- 
ous that it fills dictionaries, and so far exhausts ancient lan- 

' Ttie TTcatmoDt gT Naturo aad EnsUfb Poetry io LiKratare. M. Rejvohk 
Cliicigo, i8i;6, p. 390. 



gtUETCS that to know this part of botany and zoologj* alone 
would itself involve mastery of scores of thousands of Greek 
and Latin words. Tliis is much more than the average bache- 
lor of arts in these tongues commands, and it is now often 
used as an argument for classical study. This is, in a sense, 
the \-ocabulary of some sciences and therefore it is often made 
lo bear the cliief introductory stress, so that the youth who 
would study nature must first serve im apprenticeship in the 
workshop of ancient philosophy and cljinulogy. 2. Mathe- 
matics is the language of other sciences which become com- 
[toe only just so far as their Ixidy of truth can be expressed 
in numbers and equations. Tables of constants and fonnula; 
of calculus that show how God himself gcometrizes have been 
so inspiring tliat mathematical methods have often been applied 
prematurely in fields not ripe for such treatment, so that the 
history not only of science but of speculation is strewn with 
the wreckage of such almrtive eflforts because men have for- 
gotten Aristotle's precept, that it is only affectation to try to 
treat a subject more exactly than its nature permits. All this 
has its place, and its invahiable and imposing methodology 
and its inspiring ideals have given momentum to many of the 
most important advances. 3. Morpholog>', the exact and com- 
parative study of part."! of organs, accurate perception, memory, 
drawing of forms, the paralleling and homotogizJng of struc- 
tores of higher species, the anatomizing of even microscopic 
objects, almost constitute a number of sciences themselves. 

Without these, modem science could not do its work in 
the world nor hardly exist. But we do not realize, least of 
all do college-makers of high school text-lwoks. that there is 
I standpoint in the teens from which this is not even needful 
^oy to give the precious metal of truth currency, but simply 
dross and tarnish. Such formula- disinfect the soul of interest 
Jnd dehumanize nature. They arc just as much and just as 
tnily weerls to the boy as his mythopoetic scntinienls for nature 
are to the drill-master. The pupil is farther frum understand- 
ing the specialist professor than from sympathizing with Keats, 
who in a toast proposed perdition to Newton, who had de- 
graded the rainbow by making it a mere matter of prisms, or 
«ith Walt Whitman in the poem, where he " had heard the 
learned astronomer lecture," etc, till his brain was so fatigued 



by ideation and lecbniqiic that he had in rush out tn seek rest 
and refuge, and reassure himself by lying on the grass and 
gazing up at the moon and starr>' skies. Humboldt thought 
love of landscapes and landscape-painting had much to do with 
geneniling tovc of geography and natural science, and our 
returns sliow how keen this rivalry between science an<l senti- 
ment often is at this stage of life. The stories of Jeffries, 
Delcal, and many others in Chapter VIII, also teach the same 
open secret. One might almost think that a love of solitude 
with nature was a good index of mental ability, showing a 
mind capable of entertaining itself and generating love of 
nature, which is the best basis of love of science, later, if only 
the pedagogiie can develop and not alienate and disenchant 
The gnarled and dozy technical roots if they do not act as 
switchbacks are liable to tninsfonn a participator in nature, 
fronting the essentials of life in hei" presence, into an indifferent 
spectator, and to make the child of nature's household only a 
guest. The spirit of botany is where Howcrs grow, geology in 
the fields and not in the minernlogicat cabinet with petrog- 
raphy, and that of astronomy is in the silence of tlie open 
night alone. 

Thus my chief thesis here is that in early adolescence not 
only girls, but toys, normally approach any and every branch 
of science over the same road which the race traversed in a 
prescientific age. There should be a humanistic propcedeutic 
because youth is in the humanist stage. Nature is sentiment 
before it Incomes idea or formula or utility. The chief among 
many reasons why all branches of science are so disappointing 
to their promoters in liigh school and college is, that in the 
exact logical, technical way they arc taught, they violate the 
basal law of psychic growth, ignore the deep springs of natural 
interest, and attempt to force a precocity against which the 
instincts of the young, so much wiser and truer and older than 
their consciousness, happily revolt. The statistics of progress- 
ive school decadence in science show how the laws of psychic 
growth, rdtliough too subtle for science to sec, are too strong for 
its best endeavors to overcome. Tt is the logical order before 
its time making havoc with the genetic order. The little sci- 
ence taught is no compeniiation for the ruin and desolation 
wrought in the feelings for nature and nature's God, which 
are about the best things in this best age of the soul. Those 



who, like the present writer, would see the sciences given the 
foremost place, are most inconsolable in view of the pathos of 
their present educational status. 

The precious last stages of growth are ignoretl and elim- 
inated. Race historj- and the nature of youth demand that 
science sliould be taught at first in a large, all-comprehensive 
»ay. not without a distinctly religious spirit, reopening the 
half-obscured but hroa<l road by which man passes from nature 
to nature's (iod. We must have an introfluclinn to science that 
touches rather hghtly on nearly all the great liypolheses. fron- 
tier questions, and larger syntheses over the whole field, in a 
way that the modern specialist wots not of, that is unitary and 
synthetic and non-analytic, that commnnds and compares the 
great ethnic mythophemes, that is poetic and hiistorical and 
orienting; then we shall realize here a higher meaning of 
the two t>esl designations of education, now so often degraded 
and misapplied, in the literary and philological fields where they 
were once inculcated, humanistic and liberal, and usher in a 
new renaissance by bringing youth and nature together as they 
belong. There is all the more nee<I of tliis Ijecause. as a later 
diaptcr shows, e\"cn literature and language are rapidly ceasing 
to be humanistic. Such a course wilt bean ally and not a para- 
site of science. It will be as dififerent from our full-grown 
geograpliies as a living serpent, the symbol nf wisdom, is from 
3 sausage. Tliis subject as now taught is one of the chief ob- 
stacles in the tnie way of approaching the study of the cosmos. 
Its topics arc disconnected or associated on the low plane of 
juxtaposition in space. It ignores nothing but its own history. 
As Turkey represents a past stage of development once threat- 
ening to overnin the West, but is now the shrunken sick man 
of Europe, so school geography is an amorphous remnant of 
the old cosmology- from which many sciences have split ofF. 
This text-book maker's pet and pedagogue's abomination often 
'as all the defects charged against popular science without tts 
■flvinp /juality of being made by experts, and dilutes and dif- 
''■'■'•^ itself over the entire universe, from stars to geology, 
crops, politics, history, anthropology, manufacture, mining, 
rommerce — fields that geographical societies know not of.' 

Our knowledge of the true genetic order is yet very imper- 

'Sw Diy Love wad Study of Nature. The Agriculture of Mus., 1898, pp 134- 




feet, but wc now see llie method by which it is to be <le\*eIof 
This is (u) by studying children in large numbers, (6) by 
combining from available sources a composite picture of race 
development on analogous lines. Tliese processes should be 
largely independent of each other, and tlicn (f ) comes the task 
of comparison, using each as the key to the other, which should 
give a record of development more complete than either alone 
could afford. The phylctic series will show much full-blown 
that in the child scries only buds. Most of the evolved prod- 
ucts in the former will not be bard to identify with the rudi- 
ments of the latter series. Next (d) we must decide which of 
the last should be left to the progressive atrophy now taking 
place, and which need to be more completely lived out either 
for their own sake or to furnish llic momentum of interest 
necessary for achieving the next higher stage of life. Here we 
shall find tliat many of the best impulsions in our nature are 
thwarted so that youth is arrested in many of its choicest prom- 
ises and potencies by adverse conditions of iiindem life, social, 
industrial, educational, and religious, and shall realize the 
pathos and tragedy of aborted |iowers so that the adult is some- 
times but the torso of what he would be were the unsuspected 
possibilities of youth fulfilled. Instead of entering upon the 
full, rich life of the race which is our heritage, which is the only 
meaning of the grand old ideal of a humanistic and Inily 
liberal education, and lingering as long as possible in the para- 
dise of unfallen man. that the individual may enlarge itself as 
far as possible toward the dimensions of his species, there is a 
veritable rage for prematurity, (or precociously assuming adult 
burdens, airs. indociiJlies. and callousness. If there is a sin 
against the Holy Ghost it is dishonoring one's own or an- 
other's youth. Next comes (e) the task of deciding which of 
all the profuse buds of talent and genius most need expression 
in each individual ; and last (f) we must determine what men- 
tal pabulum, and how curricniized and how given, makes 
it most effective for our ends. Here many of the garbs 
of culture long since outgrown and discnr<led by mature sci- 
ence will be found of inestimable value. Science itself arose 
by working over and over to ever more refined forms old 
nature myths, and to some extent, in a true pedagogy, youth 
must repeat the process. 



Vast as is the work that yet remains to be done in this field, 
a itw basal principles can be already roughly outlined. In 
general the child's reactions to nature are either directly sen- 
sory or crudely practical for work and play. 

I. Adolescence marks the rise of the first sentimental re- 
qnnse, the best first expression of whicli is mylh, i>oetry, or 
(he religions of nature. Familiarity with and love of these 
interpretations should be diligently and systematically fostered. 
Their possibilities both as genetic introductions and later as 
relays of scientific interest arc as great as they are unrealized, 
Mid literary anthologies for reading courses should be gathered 
into courses related to each of the great sciences where litera- 
ture exists; that it docs not in all is both a defect of letters 
and a misfortune for youth, all the sadder because crude mythic 
ore awaiting S)*nthesis and modem literary expression is so 
accessible in the field of every leading branch of science. 

II. Next in the genetic order comes popular science, also 
wdl developed in some and so defective in other lines. Per- 
haps it will some day be brought home to everj* eminent inves- 
tigator that a new discovery, besides its technical record, in- 
Tolves the added duty of concise and lucid popidar statement 
of it as a tribute to youth. In the quality, amount, and 
grouping of this material the wise teacher in every branch will 
liave deep concern. Here, too, belongs every contact which 
science can suggest with the daily life of the pupil at home 
Of school, at play or resting, in dress and regimen, and here, 
too, b^'ns the need of abundant apparatus, models, diagrams, 
collections, and all aids that eye or hand can give the mind. 
A science building or course without these is a soulless corpse. 
The heroes and history epochs of each branch add another 
needed quabty to the still so largely humanistic stage. 

III. Then, and not earlier, come the need of utilities, ap- 
plication to machinery, hygiene, commerce, processes of manu- 
fKture. the bread-winning worth of nature knowledge, how 
its forces are harnessed to serve man and to produce values. 
Contrary to common educational theory .ind practise, the prac- 
twal, technological side of science should precede its purer 
fcnns. Here belong economic botany and zoology, the help- 
fnln«L5 of astronomy, the inventions that follow in the wake 

of discovery, machinery, and engineering novelties based on 



researches — or, in a word, how man has made nature work for 

IV. Last and highest comes pure science (reed from all 
alloy of myth, genetic stage or utility, and cultivated for its 
own sake, with no niuttve but love of truth. 

Of many illuslratiuns uf the current ignorance and neglect 
of genetic principles and its sad results, I here select but one. 
Of all the sciences tliat deal with the physical universe, physics 
may nuw Ik called une of the chief. In antiquity it was the 
science of nature from which many branches have sprung. It 
conditions, perhaps, man's most fundamental views atiout his 
workl. In all the history uf science its chapter is one of the 
most imposing, its recent ^owth astounding, its applications 
and utilities mast fruitful, its promise for the future brightest, 
and its discipUriary value unexcelled. It is easier to teach to 
large numl)ers in the city than the biological sciences, although 
far less germane to girls than to boys in the middle teens. Its 
pedagogic history, too, under various names is some two cen- 
turies old. As natural philosophy it has been for nearly three 
generations the chief, quite commonly the only, science taught 
in secondary schools. Despite all this, it seems now from 
some points of view well along in the stages of e^lucational 
decadence.' Probably less than eight per cent of all the hoy 
pupils in our high schools are now stud>*ing physics. This 
progressive neglect or aversion to physics has gone on. despite 
the liest fostering care of colleges, its high place among en- 
trance requirements, the grreat ability with which it has been 
taught in the high schools by aid of the nearly two score new 
texts which I have collected. Everything that expert knowl- 
edge, that the authority that works from above downward, that 
the a<lvocates of unity and enrichment, that the laboratories 
and methods could do, has Iwen attempted, but the same decline 
of physics is widespread among colleges. Now as this subject 
has l>een given such a prominent role as the tj-pical science 
intended to lead to the introduction of others, this status is 
especially deplorable for the new education in science, and has 
given the advocates of Latin, English, mathematics, and 

*See my Addrvu berore the New England Auoctatiom of Phyiict Teachers, 
Boat on ProccvdiDgs, Mm/ 94, 1903. 


modem langxiagcs — courses in nil of which have increased 
grtally and ail the pupils in which far otitnunibei' if not far 
more than double those of pliysics — grounds against the intro- 
dodion of science in the high schools, which some of theiti 
itaveiiscd with great eflfecl. Something is very wrong. What 

It needs no special knowledge of psychics, but of something 
^^fliaside and just as real, to see that the cause lies in the neglect 
Tad the violence done to the nature and needs of the youthful 
soul by the present methods and matters. 

1. Boys in their teens have a veritable passion for the 
stories of great men. and the heroology of physics, which if 
rightly applied might generate a momentum of interest that 
would even take ihcin through the course as laid out, should 
find a place. Here again we must see that, as with mechanical 
so with psychic force, it must be generated over a large area 
if it is to be applied intensively at a single point. Ptiysics has 
its saints and martyrs and devotees, its dramatic incidents and 
epochs, its struggles with superstition, its glorious triumphs; 
Mid a judicious seasoning, perhaps, of the whole course with 
a few references and reports, with choice material from this 
field, would do much. Moreover, the historic sense is awaken- 
ing in these fields, giving a present sense of achievement 
and progress, and nothing appeals to the young more than to 
fcd vividly the sense of growth. 

2. The half-score of text-lxioks in physics I have glanced 
over seem essentially quantitative, require great exactness, and 
ire largely devoted to precise measurements, with too much 
sod too early insistence on mathematics. Teachers in this field 
have a sense that mathematics is the only proper language of 
tins science. The topics are no doubt admirably chosen, their 
sequence the best from a logical standpoint, and the>' are such 
models of condensation and enrichment that it seems to the 
organi2er and to the specialist alike almost perversion that our 
yoath pass it by. But boys of this age want more dynamics. 
l-iVc Maxwell when a youth, they are chiefly interested in the 

20 "of things. Recent statistics of boys' general reading in 
^r public libraries show that they were but little interested 
1 much especially prepared for them, like the Youth's Com- 
PMwn and St. Nicholas, but that the Scientific American and 



its Supplement led all the rest Tlie boys with aptitudes for 
physics want to understaml how engines, machinery, perhaps 
especially dynamos, work. I have known some fiffeatly inter- 
ested in the Patent reports; but everything to really appeal to 
them must move. In (Jermany there are many toys that might 
be called scientific. Hence, too, the fascination with which, in 
my school days, we delighted in lectures and demonstra-i 
tions with very crude and often home-made illustrative appa- 
ratus, which a clever teacher devise<I and set up for us. This 
exactness which involved applying inatheniatics came very late 
in the history of physics. Even Tj-ndall. and more yet liefore 
his day. knew little of this and never used it in classes, but 
were most inspiring teachers who powerfully evoked thought 
and were not affected by the modem rage to apply mathematics 
to the buy's brain processes, even by marking liis examinations 
and recitations. 

3. I must confess myself a convert to the dire heresy that 
in tliis field, and in some others, very much thoroughness and 
perfection violates the laws of youthful nature and of growth. 
The normal boy in the teens is essentially in the popular science 
age. lie wants and needs great wholes, facts in profusion, 
hut few formuix. He would go far to see scores and hundreds 
of demonstrative experiments made in physics, and would hke 
to repeat them in his own imperfect and perhaps even clumsy 
way without being Ijothered by equations. He is often a walk- 
ing interrogation -point about ether, atoms. X-rays, nature of 
electricity, motors of many kinds, with a native gravity of his 
mind toward those frontier questions where even the great 
masters know as little as he. He is in the questioning age, 
but wants only answers that arc vagtic. brief, but above all 
suggestive; and in all this he is tme to the great law that the 
development of the individual in any hnc of culture tends to 
repeat the histon,- of the race in that field. 

4. Last, and perhaps most important of all for our purpose 
to-day, the high school boy is in the stage of beginning to be 
a utilitarian. The age of pure science has not come for him, 
but applications, though not logically first, precede in the order 
of growth and interest the knowledge of laws, forms, and 
abstr.ictions. He would know how the trolley, how wired andi 
wireless telegraphy work, and the steam engine, the appUca-J 



of mechanics in the intricate mechanisms, almost any oi 
even the smaller straps and buckles in the complex harnesses 
science has put upon natural force, chami him. Pliysics in 
the field, ilie street, tlie shop, tlie factory, the great triumphs 
of engineering skill, civil, mining, mechanical, inventions in 
their enibr>o stage, processes, aerial navigation, power devel- 
oped from waves, vortexes, molecules, atoms, all these tilings 
which make man's reaction to nature a wonder hook, should he 
open to him; and. in frequejit conversations and copious infur- 
ntatioii, we should arouse his imagination, fur litis is the organ 
of the heart and opens up the way for reason. The boyhood 
of the great makers of physics and astronomy, who have found 
out and opened a natural way for their own genius, is a lesson 
which most teachers of physics, I fear, have not enough profited 
by. Tlic svtbject-maUer of their curriculum is too condensed, 
too highly peptonized for healthful assimilation; and we are 
too prone to forget that wc can only accelerate nature's way, 
but never short-circuit it without violence. 

The influence of the college professors of physics and their 
text-books has in the last decade or two been a stimulus of 
W)* great value in elevating standards, but tliis work now, in 
my opinion, has been overdone, and the time has come when 
high-school teachers should assert their independence and make 
adjustments to a stage of youthful interest, of which tlic col- 
kgt professor knows little. High-School physics has problems 
»il its own to which its representatives sliould address thcm- 
•dvcs with courage, resolution, and above all with indcpcnd- 
tnce. or else tlic present decadent tendencies, more due to 
rollcge control through the undue influence of cxnminations 
and standards than to them, will continue, and with it the sci- 
otific movement, of which it is in a sense a pioneer, will suffer 
tin more. 

Toy museums, exliibitions, and even congresses in Europe, 
tre very instructive here. Bugs that flutter and creep, birds 
ibl fly. peck, and sing; monkeys, soldiers, boats, dolls, bal- 
k«xu, engines that move, are often, especially in Germany. 
'Wterpieccs of mechanical simplification ami cheapness illustrat- 
inj fundamental principles. Many of these things could be 
Blade as maniial training adjuncts, and the best hoys' books, 
Hte Cassell, Baker, Ucard, Routledge, Pei)er, and also books 



on magic, like Hoffman and Hopkins, wouM be helpful in 
teaching problems of the lever, balance, wedge, puUc>', pump, 
monochord. whistle, prisms, small lenses easily ground by boys, 
magic lanterns, kaleidoscope, tel^raph, etc.. wliidi the normal 
boy would approacli with a full head-pressure of interest. 
Glass work, the equipment of which with a little stock of tubes, 
blowpipes, bellows, tools, and annealing oven, occupies no 
more space than a sewing machine, including the making of 
thermometers, all this gives a manual discipline for hand 
and eye comparable to learning the piano. Tops of many kinds 
are an open sesame into the very heart of science and suggest 
and illustrate some of the proEoundest principles from ions and 
electrons to stellar systems. Box kites that penetrate the clouds 
and the secrets of humidity, temperature, velocity, pressure. 
perhaps with photographic attachments, rest on a soil of 
strong native interest. Where work that the boy has made 
with his own hands goes, there his interest follows. An inner 
eye opens, skill with fingers is harnessed to the development 
of cerebral neurons, and we work in the depths and not in 
the shadows of the soul. In Europe photography is often 
curriculized, and in Vienna the magnificent imperial school 
devoted to it is visited. At the Besancjon school of horology, 
vibrations, springs, synchronizatinn, etc., are ta\ight, and at the 
f famous Ecole du Livre, where everything pertaining to book- 
making is learned, pupils arc taught many principles of physics. 
Each one of these topics has a choice little literature, as does 
rubber work and soldering. SufTering as school physics is 
from lack of concrcteness. application, and appeals to the motor 
element, and still more maimed as manual training is for lack 
of intellectual ingredients, the present divorce of the two is a 
strange and surely transient anomaly. 

The humanistic stage and aspect of science has I)een pro- 
gressively ignored. If the old nature religions had persisted, 
or if it could be now recognized that childhood and youth still 
tend to live through them in a way that Ixith the higher relig- 
ions that worship man and the mechanism of science intim- 
idate and repress to the great loss of lioth, all would be very 
different. To me the faint beginnings that are now being 
made to recover some of our losses here, appeal as a new enthu- 
siasm of hnraatiity, as a restoration from a dire fall that has 



■en so gmdual that we do not realize it, and so all-sidcd that 
the verj* standards of comparison are all in various stages of 
decay. The Renaissance recreated Europe by restoring a rela- 
tively recent age and stage of man's development. History 
seeks to conserx'e for present uses the lessons of the past. Prot- 
estant cuhure seeks to go back to Scriptnre and restore by the 
spade and textual criticism the consciousness of Jesus and the 
nascent stages of the new life that came into and transformed 
the world through Him and His early followers. Now that 
education woidd guide and improve all earlier and later stages 
of development, it must no longer limit its lesson ti> the short 
period of authentic history, but profit by and even incite by 
new motives every new method of retracing ever earlier stages 
of the soul's evolution. Happily, it is now beginning to shape 
a latter and all-comprehensive humanism and renaissance full 
of new promise for the future of the race. 

In what follows 1 can only very briefly glance at some of 
the great fields of natuie interest, following a general evolu- 
tionary order rather than that of psychogenetic zest, which is so 
far less determined^ and having regard chiefly to adolescence 

I. One of the new psychic developments of this age is a 
peat and sometimes sudden extension of interest in space and 
time. Childhood cares little for what is remote in either order 
unless associated with some personal object. Inversely as the 
squares of the distances is one of its most characteristic laws 
of interest, for it lives chiefly in the present. But it would 
almost seem from our returns that every wcll-endnwed youth, 
before or very soon after the age of twenty, has an infinity 
neurosis concerning space and time, which is more or less spe- 
cific and is often at first perhaps chiefly automatic and 
instinctive, but unique and heretofore little known. While it 
fascinates, it soothes and quiets. Some become specialists in 
sky^aztng and dreaming and think along, visiting worlds full 
of wonders, or the arch above may seem a wall which shuts 
out the soul as though it never could get through, or it may 
become a shuddering menace of extinction and annihilation, 
while some are so updrawn that the heavens and the soul seem 
to belong to each other. Some have distinct agoraphobia at 
flw thought of spatial infinity, and steady themselves by think- 



ing that the stellar worlds are oases scattered at distances that 
are not really too great to be a little neighborly, while the claus- 
trophobiac type of mind is relieved to find open spaces in a star 
map, so that escape is not cut off, or are glad to hear of ether 
instead of a void, for it seems a way of exit or makes getting 
to heaven easier. Some muse on whether there can really be 
either a mathematical or a gravity center in the universe and 
associate these thoughts with constant falling and a sinking 
feeling. Some think the universe laminated in a Dantcsque 
way or growing a layer at a time. Others feel that space opens 
to infinity easiest toward some one point of compass, usually 
eastward, or at a certain angle of elevation where the world 
came from or where God is still creating worlds. Otlicrs 
think out in one direction until they are fatigued or repelled, 
and then in tlie opposite. Some have a persisieiil longing or 
drawing toward the east, south, or west, or right up to the 
sky, where they would float on forever. Some fancy limits, 
then transcend them, and count off and must measure time and 
space by each other. Some pity the loneliness of tlie earth, 
the solar system, or the stars so far from each other, witli no 

Some reflect that void space might be either light or dark 
and it would make no difference. The lapse of time is so 
doom-like going on to the end. Some must stop the lick of the 
clock or turn it back. Some are " frozen stiff " and gasp at 
these attacks, and all the snugness and comfort of life seem 
gone. What can Gnd do with all this space and time? Some 
are faint, others angry, to hear talk suggesting their creepy 
" .spells." Docs it get lighter, darker, emptier, hotter, or colder 
away out there? Is it splicrical or ohlntc. etc. ? To many these 
thoughts are immediately associated with ideas of the soul's 
future, while to others it is all more abstract and mathematical. 
Not one of our returns even suggested the subjectivity of time 
and space, except where there had been specific instruction in 

* F., 17. Ac Ihtrlecn begun 10 renlicc eiemky and ihinh on ihe end or lima^- 
Space. «nd the worM. lliis hronght a fe«ling of weakn«s« and polpitAtion uwl 
m&de her wHoni and thoaghlfal. She devdo[Md n ritua] of Bible verses, hymn*, 
•tc., (or such flcCAsions. 

M., 33. Thought space might be dotted all over with surs. and if it wa$ lnfinii« 



We glimpse here perhaps the motives of the Yogi cult of 
absorption in liie absolute or universal, and of the worship of 
Vanina, or Uranus, of whicli diffusing smoke and incense was 

md ifac Ug)it o( them all could reach ux, ttm no matter how far apart lbe]r were 
Hk tky woald awm a lulid door o( light, and wondered if he wont to the fanheit 
as thcjr irould stUl Mcm nniformly thick on all gicIu. {CI. Eternity, by W. M. 
hjm, pp. 3^37r for n toniewhat ■imihtr reverie.) 

r, 27. Thinks uf infinite ipace as tnientcly alive, tingling and vihrattng whh 
■tjfiif. World* and ttari ixfc drou or precipitation ». and *oah arc finer extracts 
W tbeir cosmic life far more tntcaH: than ifaein. Malicr i> the aamci only lower 
nd aon degmleil. 

M., 17. l^inkt all people worry about infinite time and ipAce sometimes, and 
1U1 il u well 10 have it early and in a chicken-pox form so nx not to be befuddled 
"ii Kaac Space ii round with the earth at the center, and the thought of forever 
1illa{ iffecti his hean. 

U., a^ Ulien 1 gaze at th« sky and think of the immensities and infiniTudcs, X 
U like a microbe and could do more have the conceit lo say their <';tj,- \s ftrftpt 
likevch I could do this with ease and pleasure in my room at college) than I could 
aaccin a protosoan saying this universe consists of me. Very likely the gods or 
«d bdep am there could not see us with a microscope if the sun itself was a Icna 
ndt on purpose. If ihey con. ihey must langh, 

M., 14. if space is really infinite and populated with siars all through, I could 
M H» how there could be any common center, or any ahsoluie gravity, or atiso- 
te Budon. Again, if every movement of every being started vibrations that irra- 
tottntward forever, the acts ol my boyhood must now be present by continuity 
iltibBkn at some far-off point, and thus everything that ever happened is snme- 
rtcn pmefti forever in irradiating spheres, and thus if there be a universal senso- 
raa miyihing is forever preicnt to it. 

f-, 1^ I am a «trong believer in cremation, because I like the idea of having 
■Wbody given a speedy gaseous diffusion as wide as possible. The poclic idea id 
pMoajt ij( tnj body coloring a sunset ever so little appeals to me ; beNttcs. I had 
vbct tc gu vid vapor than clay and earth which ordinary iohnitiation suggcut), 
inoH the (oniwr teems somehow more akin to spirit, as the latter does lo 

H., 10. When I get hypnnlixed by gniing at the sky and slArs, I think my pre- 
Wiawt f«cling is a dwtre lo explore, lo float op and travel all around and visit 
■•T «tr» and get to the limit and look off into empty starless space in some sort 
''s etld Jnles Verne trip, and I often fancy schemes of rapid intetltellor transit in 
*\ Ulc sky-dreaming». 

M , II. After nnch thought, once reached this notion, that starting with arow 
dtssSI figure nineiTreadiing to the farthest star and back and then looping thinugh 
•ttbt other Mars and back, then letting each unit represented in this immense 
■•ha Sand lor all the tmalleM particles in Ihc ani'v-crse, and letting each of thc!.e 
r«:<drittand for a decillion miles, he rclleclcit thni nhen he had traveled all these 
^'■^ brvnK) ibe fsithTSt Mnr he would have r>nly just started through inlinite 
V^ Luer he thought each unit might stand for all the distance light could 
"^Bdl these years, aitd then that each particle in the universe should be placed 
■ i^cadslihediatance light couM travel in them all, etc 



(lie symbol, and from which the various theories of pantheistic 
anatheosis were unfoUieti. Uut there is no suggestion of get- 
ting beyond or outside of time and space. Now the mind il 
expanded and finds repose in the nelmla; hypothesis, as formerly 
the quietism of the heart was attained in Nirvana. The modem 
dreamer wants to be pulverized or reduced back to his stoichio- 
logical liases, like Jeffries perhaps, by fire burial, as the panthe 
istic soul which felt itself as intensive as space is extensive, anc 
would relapse to the void out of which it was formed. Td 
those who aspire to be " sunk in the changeless calm " of an 
impersonal deity, the only truly nihilistic atheism is to denj 
the void, but the infinite void is real, and to affirm its over- 
whelming positix-e character is the supreme affirmation of 
faith. Modern p5ycholog;y knows no hint of an explanation 
why the adolescent soul seeks perhaps to cool passion, as it 
is still taught to do in India by the cult of sitting cross-legged 
and saying " om '" ; or why it gravitates so strongly at this 
age to think sub specie eclcrtinalis, or to fal) into thi.s " lair ** 
of Eckhart, unless there really be some " impulse of return." 
as Froclus and Plotinus said, by contemplation toward the 
elherism from which all things emanated and into which they 
will be reabsorbed. It would almost seem that pantheistic, lik< 
other religious impulses, culminated in youth In which the best 
blood of its highest types flows. It is not critically formidate<| 
or entirely conscious, but the appetency for uncreated and un- 
determined being, for a Godhood above God, for bottoming oa 
some most real being or substance as if the summit of the seal* 
of existence was attained with the highest degree of abstrac* 
tion, is perhaps the supreme expression of the religion of pure 
intellect, wliich must forever be a very different thing in iu 
nature and needs from the religion of the heart which can nevei 
love a being defined by negation, can not worship an unmoved 
mover, and is not intoxicated with abstract unity. Or is it an 
because the work of reason itself is not complete until it hai 
postulated something ultra rational or brought itself squarely 
up against barriers which thought can never cross, and thus 
in a sense shown forth its own transcendent nature even by 
affirming the dissolution of personality in a universal and un- 
conditioned menstruum, pausing before a veil whicli only the 
heart can penetrate? 



The new cphcbic sympathy with nature in these days of 
evolution and cosmic gas passes far more rapidly than formerly 
into an Oriental sense of a one and all, which is a unity back 
of all difference, conceived as a point of departure from which 
we were formed out of the void, and into which, when the 
tides that drew us fortli ebb again, we shall be resolved or 
absorbed. As by the old doctrine of representative perception 
llie heart perceives objects because it is of the same kind, since 
like knows like, so it is felt that the soul is of the same nature 
as all, and can tlierefore know all. These sentiments are in 
fact not yet pantheism, because there is no conception of a soul 
of tlw world, and indeed there is at first neither dualism nor 
monism. It is not a system, but a feeling of kinsliip wliich is 
a kind of insight and which may later develop comprehension. 
At first it is an utterly naive and unreflecting sympathetic grop- 
ing or orientation with r^;ard to origin and end of both self 
and the world, a sense of our continuity with life, earth, sun, 
and sky. It is tnie that this way lies pantheism, which Paulsen 
calls the secret faith of science to-day, in which perhaps all 
Ditural religions culminate. It is the sentiment which the 
Stoics interpreted materialistically, making their theology a 
part of physics; optimistically, because tbey thought the world 
and its soul the most perfect: and ethically, by defining duty 
as the contemplation and imitation of nature or the universe — 
but in its native youthful form it is most l>enign. 

Thus, neither the narrowness of creed nor the bigotry of 
systems should lead us to forget that theologies and even phi- 
losophies pass, while folklore and poetry, that spring from and 
lie nearer the heart, remain, and tJiat the weak points of the 
ioniicr often constitute their chief use, A shallow orthodoxy 
Boy condemn these youthful stirrings of soul, but they are not 
only not inconsistent with the highest religious or even Chris- 
Han belief and life, but profoundly strengthen it, so that their 
absence is a very serious loss. This experience makes purgation 
and is a precious baptism for which the now much vaunted 
episteraology is no adequate sulwtitute; it gives a deep, abiding 
*nse of reality instead of the hollowness which academic 
leadiing so often leaves about the heart. It instils feelings 
•hal *' there lives and moves a soul in all things, and that soul 
is Cod "; tliat " the rolling year is full of God; forth in the 



Spring his beauty walks " ; that " in H im we live, and move, and 
have our being." It gives a kind of spiritual exaltation, so 
that every aspect of the cosmos may awaken the spirit of 
poetry, of which one of the best definitions is contact between 
the soul and nature. This sudden psychic expansion toward 
the infinite is almost the acme, and these phenomena the high- 
water mark of genius, which needs to see little in order to 
know so much, and which is temperamental and characteristic 
in the modern environment of true science in which it is " bliss 
to be alive and to be young is heaven." This is nature living, 
as it can truly only in our lives. It touches perhaps the very 
highest point yet attained in human evolution, where our 
source and destiny bend together to a cycle, and where we 
can with equal ease and equal edification interpret ihe highest 
things ill the scale of development by the lowest, or the lowest 
by tl»e highest. 

II. Little children watch the stars pop out like bubbles, or 
take their places. " say present," think them diamonds, gold 
studs, brass nail-heads to keep up the sky. lamp's eyes, sparks, 
glass buttons. They iove each other's company, and the happy 
celestial family, mothered by the moon or fathered by the sun, 
talk of us or of God. At about the age of ten, twinkling seems 
to attract special attention. It is explained as winking at each 
other in sign language, or at us, and children wink back; it is 
the breaking of bubbles, vibrations when they hit eacli other and 
shake, shooting out sparkles, rotation showing aiteriiate light 
and dark sides, saying good evening, ami they call liack this 
greeting; it is dancing or else their smiles or tears. They 
often pick a certain star as " my star." wait for and salute it, 
and arc sad or feel guilty if it does not appear. It is talked to, 
told secrets, used to wish by, and invested with peculiar power 
to make wishes come true, etc., will take the soul in personal 
charge at death : some move the bed or adjust curtains so it will 
shine on them when they go lo sleep. Sometimes they are indi- 
vidualized as souls of parents, dead friends, great men, and 
many amuse themselves by tracing angles, circles, animals, 
persons, buildings, apparel. They cluster for sociability, etc 

;\l adolescence sentiment r^arding them is greatly deep- 
ened. There are sometimes longings for some token of re- 
sponse, melting tenderness, partly love and partly worship. 


Some reveries are dependent upon stars and seem to free the 
mind from the body and send it off on cliarming excursions. 
Spontaneous prayers to stars arc nut infrequent. Maidens are 
sometimes greatly steadied by silent conimuniun witli the stars 
and lifted atMve trouble, because from llieir eternal standpuint 
earthly pleasure and pain seem evanescent. Tticy bring calm- 
ness, purity, control. Occasionally young women become pas- 
sionate star lovers.' The Milky \Vay is a heavenly river " with 
abroad, peaceful, stony bed." It is often conceived as flowing 
Iwth ways, perhaps from the north [wle, which was once 
nearer 10 it than now; or it is a fier>' current, the storehouse 
of lightning, or its stream is the source of rain and flows 
alternately up and down. 

We have here the ontogcnic correlate of astrology and 
many an ancient myth of stars and planetary influences. In- 
terest in stellar revolutions comes later and its phyletic side 
i«ms far stronger, this stage probably having lieen suppressed 
by the percolations of the influences of modem astronomy 
which are extirpating pre-Copemican ideas, great, long-persis- 
tfnt, and pervasive as they have been. The value of their edu- 
cational reconstructions may be an open question. I can here 
only indicate them in a notc.- 

' A jowtc inolh«r *l31 hnlflit nnipoken communion with mars And is helped bjr 
it ta muy wmy^ They Uflcd her thuuKliU far nbore all Iroublc. They were 
wnul, u)d from their slandpoini all pleasure anti pain sceiriKcI «viuic*n;M. They 
*tncMl5Uuit. unchanging, and to mild and pnre that to conlemplale them kept 
^ aim, pore in thought, *vett in temper, nnd brought sdl-contTx>l and a deep 
^Jn. For another, although reared in furitiUi Xew England and Mill an active 
diardi nember. the being called God hod liitle iniere&i »r reality, as n child, less 
^M Snta Claas, and was prayed to only perfunctorily and not as a power in her 
^~ Bet the surs wem pauionaUly loved and could grant prayeri. Becatite they 
W tncli pgver to arouBV deep longinRs, they must have power to satisfy chem, till 
■MWn «f conscience were faabiiuilly and inscinctivcly taken to ihcm. Faith in 
^ hffc of mother or sister is not more perfect than wa;^ girliiih belief In Che re- 
fnNfoe love of the stars, that drew to myslcnouily ycl ttrongly. What is 
^iT«ldMtn for is iiill granted, and the awe and love still increases and they are 
lt«lMl to for right desircr, 

'Aa endless number of man's sacred ideas are based on a mprcine reverence 
•* lite reroluiioo of the anEverse nlxnit (he earth's a^tts and for the power that 
<"•€• il»i« motion, a belief whldi since Copernicui we know t'j be fftl«. The 
•l»«f chit van and conuont revolution »( the heavens around the earth must, 
■•■ the lime ibe hnman mind first took c aniiance of il. have exerted on enormocs 
^'' "" l i o n and iaflDeiice upon the reflective and devout niiiid. An aaletrce 01 



Perhaps the most sig^nificant immediate effect of science 
here is to put the stars afar off. The youth reads in his text- 
book that if llie snn were two feet in diameter, the earth would 
be tlie size of a pea two hiindred and twenty feet away, and the 
nearest star would be eight thousand miles away. He reads 
of one hundred tnilHori stars visible through the ihrcc-foot 
glass of a telescope, or of the (wcmy-two thousand million, 
cstimatetl. when a tens is made which can see thtwe of the 
twenticlli tnagnitiule — the Lick glass reaching only the six- 
teenth; of the small size 6f our sun compare<l with Sirius 
about five hundred times greater, and others estimated to be 
a million times larger; of all the stages of stellar life from 

pole WM early assumed, and some creative myths. U3ic the Jspuiese, represent thb 
Gpcu-axis as churniog the wurld out of the prunevai sea. Hence w« tuive a vut 
cyclctk or kinnii; inyihology of cosmic luochbcry in motion. 

When tile awe-struck mind sought for the power thai caused thii rotation. It 
would niitUTally be placed at the hi^fliesl pivotal |K>int, «a that the polar dlitj nwy 
be. u John O'Neill (The Nigtic of tlie God*. 2 vols., iSi)j] urges with great learn- 
ing, "the oldest andiuprcmest odlie cosmic gods of all the extly northern region*." 
Here it (he eye of heaven, and here the omphalos myth), are located. Here, c&pe- 
cioLly, the seven stars of Ursa Major turn and have given lis liuliness to the number 
■even. Ttic Atlas myths and thu&e of the pitlur« of hearen often survive in obelitkaa 
towers, and steeples, which iiill perpetuate primitive man's idea of the mainxtajr 
et the universe. Here, loo, Iwlung the universe tree and the hridges to another 
world, the diknc« of the stars, the wheel of ihe law, the prnyer wheel, the fire wheel, 
the wheel of forttue, the one holy mouniain a* a cone piercing heavra — all tbeie 
art traced from the original idea of a pole. 

The swastika (The Ftmdamental Piinciples of Old and New World Civilization, 
by Zelia Nmiall, Papers of Pcabody Museum, vol. ii, iijoi) wa§ first used in the 
drcumpolar regions, aiid was a record of the foar positions of the nocturnal and 
annual circuits of the Bear and Dipper abottt the polc-sur. It was first a year sign, 
then a symbol of the four quancrs of the year and of tbc quadraplicatc divisioo, 
and of "a stable central power whose rule eslended in (our directions and con- 
trolled the entire heavens." In India, l^gypt. Babylonia, acid Assyria, cities and 
States were divided into fuur quarters with four tribes under a central chief, and thus 
society was hatmonizcd under the ideal of a religious democracy. Ilie pyramid, 
which originally had four stories and was cruciform, and many sacred structures, 
commemorate osmical and territorial orgatiizaiion into four parts. The four quar- 
ters, the sacred middle, and above and below, represent a yet more extended con- 
ception ot seven directions in space, a» in Egypt there were s4.-vcn clutcf. .Start- 
ing from this common ba»is of fourfold division, a g»at variety of cun.ttitu lions 
were independently invented by iCutesmen and pliilosophers. who devised many 
cycles cunibtned of numbers and sign* to regulate time and communal life in imiia- 
lion of the order and harmony of heavenly motion and under ouu supreme mler. 
the earthly representative of Polaris, The origin of ibese schemvs is geueraU|f 


iduUe, through all stages of incandescence anJ cooling, to 
cinders; of vast bodies of equal size revolving about each other 
in immense periods; how of all this number scarcely eight 
hnndred thousand are yet even catalogued ; of the stratifications 
and general configurations of the stars in the Milky Way. in 
which our system is and from which we look out to it as from 
a center toward the edges of a lens-shaped group of stars com- 
prising all within the ken of astronomy. 

Of all the sciences, astronomy is the oldest. Its theme is 
tl>e largest. It deals with the greatest masses of matter and the 
Iimgest stretches of time and space. As Emerson said, if the 
heavens were visible only one night in a thousand years the 

acKbed to t DcrtberD race who IumI discovered fire-making and evolved > cult and 
mail nggested byii. They were persecuted for both that religious and cIfrio- 
iiiiicTiews, and Ihis would be &n inc'Ciitivc to »cek refuges and futind colonics. 
TVs 1^ did in the New Wufid, traniipurUng iheir ideas at widely separated critl- 
olpcrivl* of their own hifclory. Hence the dose Rimilanty beiwcen the ari of the 
AadsiBd tKu of the Mcditerraneui, e»]>eciBlly in plan and numerical Bchemes. 
TbaAaerica became an tsotuted area of preten-atton for archaic forniB at govem- 
tmt. colti%-atcd industry drawn ai diSereuc epuch* from various centers of Old 
Voild mlturc. and iransmilted but with IncieasEng native elements. The one 
Unilhai nnderUy all w»s the recoKnilion of fixed taws ([ovenitng the ntiiver»e, and 
1^ m gnoi by long obncrvaiion o( Polaris and notihem stars. Thus wc rccog> 
utaew How the emir« intellectual, moral, and relifiious evolutjun uf Che race haj 
ntolted in &xed laws. Piom the itme when our world began to ruiute, the fuel of 
m filed point in space Ihai never chAng^ ha; had n mysEic and irresistible inHn- 
iKt, rabing the mind of man from darkness and confuiiun, and issuini; in the idea 
efvu central power, aad from this the idea of an invisible and supreme Deity Arose 
ntti higher scale of spiritual development. Perhaps the Master Architect of the 
•oridd^gncd this, still sUKgcslcd by the sacred sign u( the cross which is set for 
• ngnin heaven: while the shaft, pole, or chark, which brought down lire, sug* 
(wcd a pfimiiive mode of worship. 

"1^ earliest year used by the firai s^icullural races was one of two seasooi 
Botsred l>y Pleiades, besinnins witli the fc-stiv^ of the stars and the coinmcmora' 
tin a( dttd ancestors cckbratcd in November" <The Ruling Kaccs of I'reliti- 
Ivic "naies in India, Soathwesiem Asia, and Southern Europe; Wcsiminsier, 
tVu See Essay ]V). Then came the year of three seasons, the first olficiiil meos- 
VI o4 tine t>y the barley-growing races who always be^n their yeorat the autumnal 
*1KM«. "These early actronotners substituted for the reckgninc of time by the 
fUidei Qom foonded on the supposed friction of the pole, which they thought to 
fe pmen by the apparent moti^Mi of the stars aroom) it." The heat thus gcner- 
■kdbyihe ever-RimiDf; fire drill was bouodril by the four »lar«, which marked 
&(ttvqoiners ol the heavens: viz., Sirius, which rote with the beginning rains 
*'Ia4[a at the summer solstice ; the Circ-Ai tiett- Argo in the south ; and Corvus 
hfte««lL These Utter constcHilions traced their btrth to Sirius. 



sights of that night would be awaited with tlie greatest ex- 
pectation, ant] those of that generation alive to see it would 
count themselves happy. Its decline in hoth high schools and 
colleges is purely because it is no longer so taught as to meet 
youthful ncfeds. Even when its first stages consisted largely 
in tracing constellalions it used to be taught in a religious and 
almost devotional way. One of these old ol>ser\'atories bore, 
cut in stone over the entrance, the Iq^end, " The heavens de- 
clare the glory of God." and over another stood "The undevout 
astronomer is mad." In looking over elementary text-lxwlts 
of our day. we find the greatest difTerence between those which 
treat the subject in a technical, mathematical way, and those 
which are more like p<:»pular reading books because they appeal 
to deep, primary sentiments of awe, wonder, reverence, and 
curiosity. The former method dwells chiefly upon celestial 
motions and makes more or less use of mathematics as its lan- 
guage. The revolution of the earth is often the starting-point, 
and 1 know of a high-school class who spent six precious weeks 
of individual competition in trj'ing to determine the noon-mark 
most accurately. Prediction of eclipses, subtler motions and 
their determinations, explanations of equinox, aberration, and 
nutation, determinations of the eccentricity of orbits, the dif- 
ferent seasonal distances of the moon, etc, follow. Under this 
method carried to extreme, interest vanishes almost in direct 
proportion to difficulties and the end is disenchantment. 

Under the other method, interest is first generated over 
a large field. The history of astronomy from astrology down 
is made interesting. Kepler, Galileo, Tycho Brahe, and the 
hcroology and biography in which this science so abounds and 
which gives it such high value as culture history, are given 
prominence. Telescopes with something of their historj', and 
the casting and finishing of great lenses, are made as inter- 
esting as Schiller's Song of the Bell. Clucks and clironoscopes 
down to those that measure ten -thousandths of a second arc 
described, along with gratings and other apparatus. Cos- 
mogony and the nebular theory, as a part of evolution, have a 
place, and something is told about ether and the development of 
the stellar world with the historical stages, now exemplified 
in different parts of space. Practical astronomy is given a 
place and its effects traced in navigation, the discovery of 






Ainerica, and the changes from the geocentric to the helio- 
centric view of things. GUinpses of the most recent discoveries 
and observaticms are included, such as the revolutions deter- 
mined in some of tlie fixed stars; photographs of the heavetis; 
Itie process by whicli many tliousaiuls of the million stars now 
estimated to be \-isible through a forty-inch glass have been 
named or identified, comets, meteors — all with very copious 
pictures in text-buuks. 

III. Not only is man a child of the sun, body and soul, but 
nrry dawning day rescues us from blindness in the great dark 
and recreates the mind as it wakes from the void of sleep. The 
socil is instinctively heliotropic and worships its Creator. The 
(rfienomenon of dawn to a sonl refreshed by sleep kindles such 
a wealth of variegated imagery that it seems a calamity that 
mcKlem childhood and youth are so withdrawn from its influ- 
ence. To bright young children, in our returns, the sun is 
often completely personified as getting out of bed, pulled or 
pushed upward by some alien power or person, rising like a 
halloon or on wings, shot up by a cannon, as being God's open- 
ing eye, God him.self or his lamp, a hole in the sky, etc. Chil- 
dren a little older conceive the sun as making an cflFort to lift 
itself, to get free from the horizon, disentangle itself from the 
trees, break loose from the sea, as angry at the clouds and 
pushing them away or breaking through as a victor in a contest 
with them or with darkness. It seems most triumphant in the 
eirly hour when its movement is vertically upward against 
gravity. To children also, as to primitive man. the sun, like 
the moon, is a wanderer at its own free will. It floats or rolls 
^ong where\-er it wishes ; rises wlien it feels disposed to do 
so; and goes now fast, now slow. 'Inhere is no idea of a fixed 
orbit, time, or rate. Some draw the breath with relief when the 
iun really gets clear of the horizon. If wakeful, they often 
fear morning will never come, or feel in bon<lage until liglU 
wtsthem free. 

To the awakening imagination in adolescence it is but an 
asy and natural next slcp to Phaeton, with the rays as lines 
md the clouds as horses, the labors of Hercules, the birth of 
Aurora, Ajax's prayer for light, or a single touch of f.incy 
gives the sun of Heraclitus daily secreted out of the body of 
fee world, leaving its mass a little darker, colder, or more 



corpse-like througliout. All the phatotoiiic infiuences whicli 
pervade animate nature are here at their very best. It is no 
longer imposing, sensuous scenery only, but there is a feeling 
of victory, of triumph of the powers of good over those of evil, 
and so of worship, as in the faino\is antique statue of the Greek 
youth's prayer eastward to the dawn whence comes all our light 
and wisdom. It is all, too, a pregnant symbol of the age when 
the good, beautiful, and tnie really dawn in the soul. 

So of solar rays our data .show how they stimulate juve- 
nile fancies. The}' are described as " bars between me and an- 
other world " ; " ladders for fairies to dance on and go to and 
from heaven on ;" " a wreath of rays around the round liappy 
face of the sun ;*' " the sun's long arms reaching out to embrace 
and warm us;" they " pierce all crevices and pry out darkness 
as you pry out a stone with a lever." Many make a Just to see 
the particles float in a ray, blow them, or try perhaps to follow 
one. The rays plunge into tlie sea to loosen or open a way 
from the sun. who sinks into it as they do; they spout out on 
all sides like jets of a fiery fountain: isoliitcd rays are lone- 
some; arc often fciired if it is not known at once where they 
enter the trees or house, and with some this quest becomes a 
neurosis ; clouds are very bold that ilo nut fear them ; the dark 
is many times as big but knows enough to fly at their approach. 
One thinks tlie floating motes separate jwrticles of sunshine 
dancing; they and the rays die when the sun does; reflected 
rays are impertinent and rebellious; threads or ropes to hold 
the sun; tubes to suck up water; paths or ladders to the sky; 
strokes of an artist's brush; spears, daggers, with power to 
make us good or to punish iis if we arc bad : full of gold dust ; 
the sun is unselfish to send them out so freely, vain to mirror 
himself in the water, or cruel to break the rays at its sur- 
face, etc. 

All this shows that the soul of childhood and youth is a 
rank sprouting-bcd for far more than pnetrj*, mythology, or 
etymologies combined have yet exploited. In the past, if 
Ma.x Miiller and Cox arc right, the darts of the far-shooting 
Apollo, the arrows of Philoctctes and ITlysscs, and not only 
many magic shafts but perhaps the swords of Theseus, Perseus, 
and Siegfried. Arthur's Excalibur, Orlando's Durandal, tlie 
Volsung's good blade Gram, etc., are only anthropomorphized 



rays of the sun. But these arc all tropes of an age of war. 
There are also triumphs of love, pity, and science yet to I>e 
wrouglit out in new artistic and Iiunianistic forms if we are to 
UDfolO all the best latent possibilities of the young, and fully 
accept, feel, and yield to the inspiration of their needs as our 

Some blinded animals sleep for lack of stimulus to keep 
awake, and as blind children are indisposed to action in part 
(or the same reison, bright lights quicken the nieiitalton of 
idiots. For small children, a succession of dark days tends to 
stolh. somnolence, irritability, or dyspepsia. Some are un- 
toneil in dark comers, and groups uf children are often so 
nsitive that a cloud passing over the sim causes a notice- 
able depression of spirits, activity, or \yolh. They falter in 
their play, are less merry, hesitate. p;uise, and neurotic children 
often shiver and catch their breath. As the degree of its 
iBomination diminishes, they speak more softly, whimper, or 
are silent, grow less energetic in their movements, their spirits 
sink, the quality and quantity of work in school declines, their 
snndards and ideals droop, they are slow and inattentive, all 
tada seem harder, the appetite is enfeebled and freaky, pugnac- 
ity increases, they are ven,' easily discouraged, huddle, clasp 
hands, cling about each other or adults, suffer from ctintii, are 
prone lo collapse attitudes, are lonesome, homesick, etc., but 
when the sun breaks out, especially on new snow, their ex- 
yiaralton, noise, activity, and joy are Itoundless. 

Here, too. adolescence brings a marked change to cliiidren. 
Early nightfall is the withdrawal of stimulus, physical inac- 
tivity, and rest. They enjoy the panorama of a fine sunset 
or are subdued and sad that the day is done. But to youth 
twilight means far more. As sense is dulled and the body less 
active, reflection awakes and declares its inde]>endence of sur- 
roundings. Of all the day it is the calm. [lensive hour for 
retrospection and protcnsion. Friends and kinsmen g;ither and 
wcial instincts unfold. 'Hic hour of closing day, if the a<!olcs- 
cenl soul is directly exposed to its influences, opens up a new 
life of sentiment and niysticif^m. As sense is dimmed, soul 
conies fortli. There is a deeper, sacred, symfxilic meaning to 
it alL Conscience awakes, if not in the form of reproach, in 
aerations for a new and better life. The peace and purity of 

the ci-cntng sky is reflected in the moral nature. The jsolatioif 
of gathering twilight brings solitude; the soul is alone with 
itself, face to face with duty and ideals. There are new long- 
ings for a larger, higher life, a desire for more self-knowledge 
and self-expression. A sunset is a sermon, and " betwixt tlie 
gloaming and the mirk " is the time for music, favorite hymns, 
because heaven and God seem near, as well as for philosophic] 
tliought and reflection. It is the hour, too, for reviewing the 
day, for moralizing, dreamily though it be, and for resolulioni 
for the future, for ambitious plans for adulthood, castle build- 
ing, and reverie, often the best expression in the young of 
spontaneous psychic growth. In the great hush and peace the 
imagination is kindled. Much is thought and talked of that 
would be impo.>;sible by garish day. That is for plain, lucid 
prose, but now is the time for reading or even writing poetry, 
the time when so many, in our returns, invoke their Muse. 
Some would compose new music; sing something wildly weird 
and sad ; tell sweet tlioughts, i f only to themselves or an imagi- 
nary companion ; let the mind wander away and away, shimning 
every noise and intrusion in an abandon of delicious depression, 
some of which is perliaps an after-effect of the crude childish 
fears which now in large measure and rather suddenly fade. 
Pedagogy, especially that of religion and art, has here a great 
opportunity and perhaps will one day rise to its duty and con- 
struct a vesper ser\'ice that, while not without shelter and com- 
fort exposing the soul to all the sensuous phenomena of slowly 
gathering night, will devise adequate expression for the in- 
stincts that now turn the soul inward; make it feel the need 
of protection and trust ; preform it to walk by faith and not by 
sight; strengthen the feeling of dependence; anticipate the 
evening of life and the great sleep that wakes not. This is the 
way the soul should descend into the dark valley. " like one 
who wraps the drapery of his couch about him and lies downi 
to pleasant dreams." This is the hour of sentiment and should 
be sacred to its culture. 

The solar heroes exposed in their infancy on eastern hills, 
golden-haired, strongest at noon with strange fits of gloom^ 
subject for a time to alien and baser powers, have now sunk 
to tlieir death in a triumphant transformation scene implying a 
resurrection. Night " drinks the blood of the sun as he 



slaughtered sank "; '* Uie pale wandering gliosts that I>eat the 
gales of heaven all night " are creeping forth. Darkness 
"draweth night's thin net," "blackens bush and tree," falls 
"fold on fold duUing the western gold." The west break.s 
into bars of color, or perhaps there remjiins " a lifeless cloud 
like a dead angel lying in a shroud with lilies on her breast." 
The trees " turn old and gray " as the shadows drape them, 
Hesper " rises over the orbs of the sun," which has fallen de- 
feated into " ominous dim space," leaving only " the stern 
bbe cn.'pt of night." Thus poets try to conserve somewhat of 
wliat youth feels in mctaphoric phrases not stereotyped to 
mjth. Twilight has created moods and sentiments all its own, 
and has done much to shape the soul and inspired much poetry. 
This sweet disphoria is the normal counterpart of the cupJioria 
of dawn. 

UTicn darkness becomes complete the waking child be- 
cnmes helpless. It can neither resist nor fly. Perhaps old night 
ftars of animals or ghosts tense the ner\'es. and in those who 
ut nervous phobias develop, for the old night of ignorance, 
mother of f'^ars, still rules infant neurones. But now the (ires 
and lamps are suddenly lit. and the eye and brain snatched back 
from these tensions or from somnolence, the most exact bio- 
logic expression of darkness, and we have the interesting 
pticnomenon of " candle-light fever." Cliildren wake upas to a 
new mom in petto, are wild, noisy, frolicsome, and abandoned. 
Tias, I suggest, may be the reverberation in modern souls of 
fc joy that in some prehistoric times hailed the Prometheus 
art of controlling fire and defying night. This developed even- 
ing and made man's habits seminoctumal. but the gift lias 
cost OS the boon of stmrise, has brought the sadness of study 
and wisdom, and has robbed us of the optimistic upwar<I 
striving hours of dawn. With the adolescent it is no longer a 
natter of retinal excitement, but at first conies a stormy period 
erf defying night, a passion for seeing its side of life and na- 
Van. This perhap*? h helpful as establishing a diathesis of 
intaise activity which more and more tends to be psychic 
niher than somatic. Culture and mind drill owe very much 
U>)h« development of evening. Many first Icam to think when 
ilic distractions of the day are gone, and many can do this best 
M no other time. 





FinaHy, if Clcantlics's hymn to the sun as the source of all 
life could make Goethe a sun worshiper for life, how great _ 
must have been its impression when paganism was in its zenith! I 
To Aristotle the sun was divine also liecause it had the power 
of self-motion, h'rom the same psychic soil and from the same 
seed of wondrous awe has since come the zest that animates the 
work of the solar observatories of Potsdam and Meudon. and 
the sun is no less supreme to modem science than to Plato and _ 
Socrates. The processional from the infant concept of a fire ■ 
ball to that of solar physics and chemistry is as continuous and 
natural as it is majestic. This measure of pag-anism in youth * 
makes the better astronomer later. The younger Herschel 
thought the willow-leaf maculalions seen through his telescoi>e 
to be living organisms, hundreds of miles in length though they 
must be, and defying intense heat. Like l>nld hypotheses for 
the adidt, so myth and poetry for the young supplement and 
feed the roots of science and are not opposed save in narrow 
souls. Perhaps crass weeds of ignorance must flourish in their 
season to make a rich mold for better growth later; or, to 
change the figure, as the rough glacial age smoothed and trit- _ 
uratcd the earth's surface and is perhaps still doing a being's f 
work thoxigh it has retreated to a polar Ice cap, so the best 
thoughts of the best men of old arc often rel<^ted to ever 
earlier childhood. 

The practical and the scientific outcome here again is that, 
if it is well that the child should reproduce ancient inchistries, 
by the same token he should, if his development is to be com- 
plete, here also revive the ancient sentiments and view-points 
of the race, more or less as the tadimle must develop a tail 
only to be absorbed by the growing legs, the development of 
which it was necessary both to stimulate and to feed. If youth 
ever really reads at all the literature tliat the .sun, dawn, twi- 
light, and nij^ht have inspired, he must find the object-lesson 
in his own experience by frecjuent and perhaps systematic ex- 
posure to these influences, or else he is learning words with no 
meaning, masterpieces which are senseless conventionalities, 
for his heart rings hollow while his memory only is stuffed.* 

I See on all thlt tectinn my *tudy with Jit. T. J.. Snii'ih: Reactions to Lighl 
mid Darlmen; Am. Jopr, of P^y., Jniiuary. iijo^, pp. 31-83. Alto I. Oaulab 
Einflos* do Nachl. CeWnJbl. f. I'nycho]., .^iiril 18, [900. 



IV. The moon is our nearest celestial neighbor, only some 
ten earth's circumferences away, and here astronomy began. 
It perhaps first and chiefly lifted men's llioughts to the 
sky, releasing them from mundane aflfairs, and is their first 
halting-place in the quest of the infinite. No celestial object 
excites sttch interest in youth as the mixin. Tlic ideas of 
young children have been collated as to its size, distance, the 
material out of which it is made, how it got up into the sky, 
why it docs not fall, how tlic form of its different quarters is 
explained, where it slays when it is absent, what is seen or 
imagined in it — the nursery folklore which pervades all juve- 
nile ideas and conceptions about it.* 

Tliey often talk to the moon, say " Shine on, I want you," 
"Bkssed moon," sing to it, offer it toys. If they are bad, they 
idl it to go away ; ask it for a kiss, to be their playmate ; think 
otits celestial companionship with clouds, stars, sun. who are 
perhaps its relatives; think it the face of Jesus looking out of 
heaven; imagine it to be Moses. Santa Claus; courtesy to it 
kr luck : imagine people in tlie moon and fairies, those without 
had or all hea<I, angels, musicians, lighthouse-keepers, souls 
of Uie dead, babies, crooked people, penal colonies of Sabbath- 
breakers. They often detect faces of God. a veiled lady, a man, 
perhaps her husband, perhaps of just deati parents or play- 
males, and trace out eyes, beard, etc. ; see (ire. smoke, the cow 
uddog of nursery rhyme, and are often abandoned and mildly 
intoxicated in its light. They speculate how it moves, whether 
by rolling or sliding steadily or by jerks ; whether it rises from 
behind the woods, or the sea, etc. They often think it an ex- 
ternal conscience which cither smiles, grows bright, or comes 
to them and increases in size when they are good, and is dim, 
bidden, small, far away, if they are bad. It sees them, and in 

' Fin bQadred ind fifty-five cbildrcD, well clisirtbuicd u Co &g«, answered the 
qvodoD how the nuui gut in ihc muati(Huw [he Mim Gut in ilic Muoti, by .Miriim 
R Ltrj; Pcd. Sem., October, iSyS. vol, iii, pp. 317-318), in iiinciccn difTcrcnt 
w^v From scren to ten, aud r&pM:ially Uora elKht to nine, ilie questiun wu lakeii 
■ dl feriosHKM. sod h« wu uud 10 have Rowd ui, jumped fii, i^ue In a tmlloon, 
l^Mwcr. wvDi there when he died, gut there by eleciHcity. to be God, ang*'- ^'c. 
Bw from twelve to fourteen, when ibe census ends, there ii elthet a marked blink- 
M*} of BiiMl on ibe whule subject or else disbelief that there it a nun there, or, in 
I Un Dumber of cases, ui aiieropt to give > tctcDiific cxplanncioa. 



its presence they shrink from naughty acts. It can see and! 
teU us what our friends are doing at a distance.^ 

In early adolescence, however, the moon rises to great 
prominence in its influence u|)on sentiment. Infantile con- 
ceptions fade, and it becomes an object of a new interest and; 
comes into the most sympathetic rapport with the religious and 
sentimental life of the soul, where it has a role hitherto, as I 
think, entirely unsuspected. From 443 returns it is plain that 
it is now profoundly associated with the moral, poetic, and re- 
lij^n'ous life. Even JMifore this stage of development it is often' 
pitied wlien it is thought to be pale, or wearied from long shin-i 
ing, or wandering, or sick, because the sun refuses the light it 
craves. Pubesccnts gaze, languish, and become sentimental. 
Girls in the teens, whose windows open to the sky. oftep draw 
their blinds that the moon may not see them undress, although 
a few love exposure to il. The sight of it thrills many a maiden 
with pleasure or occasionally with sadness. Some involunta- 
rily clench the hands and grow tense; others feel unworthy and 
are humiliated. Many a maiden sits, watches the moon, and 
spins fancies, huw it is the oldest and largest star; that perhaps 
her dead mother is there ; longs to visit it till a lump rises in thc> 
throat; it is so soothing, sympathetic, tender; its light is mild 
and soft, and it must love everybody and everything. Il rests 
them, makes them good, and perhaps homesick for it. Others 
feel only awe, and want to be still and alone with every moon, 
or stretch out their arms to it. Many a phrase, quotation, and 
often prayer is spontaneously repeated. 

It now chiefly suggests love. Some maidens literally tell 
the moon their troubles and ask many things, and often find 
encouragement. Many young women can never endure to 
look at or think of the moon if away from home. They are 
made homesick and intolerably sad because it seems cold and 
friendless, or perhaps they wish to go oflE by themselves and 
cry. They sit and watch it and think, feel a strange fascina- 
tion, and can not lake their eyes off from it. Others are in- 
spired to walk, to ride, see some one, be out with their girl or 

'The Moon in ChiWhorjd «nd Folklore, by J. W. Slaughter; Amer. Jour, oj 
Pijrchoiujo^, xiii, pp. 2<)4-3i8. Also, Noteon MooQ Fftocicii, byG. S. H. ; Amec^ 
Jonr. of Pfjrchology, Jaauary, 1903, p. 86. 


beau : to go lo bed when the moon is at its best seems hke wast- 
ing opportunity to do something. Some are ashamed or afraid 
to have the moon see them misbehave, or perhaps study its face 
to see if they can detect a smile or a frown. Thus in many 
i»ays the soul at this age reverberates with the echo of the 
many-sounding sea ami the shore where terrestrial hfe first 
arose from it. The tides still rule us with a monthly as well as 
a daily rhrthm, and lunacy or moon-madness is both more 
and more aggravated during its periods, which affect nutrition, 
p-owth, sleep, health, disease, suicide, etc. The young often 
develop toward it some of the same sentiments of love, de- 
pendence, and reverence, which in infancy were directed 
toward the motlier's face, and which in normal mature life 
may be all the more efifectivcly turned toward God or less 
wncrete forms of goodness, truth, and beauty, because they 
Have been developed by the moon, which is one of the important 
jcncralors of religious feeling, and which has been the object 
of supreme worship to so many races, both savage and civilized, 
for even tlic Greeks thought the moon a proper object of divine 

When we turn from the moon of the Iieart to the moon 
of«ience, the contrast seems at first painful. We learn that 
it is a humt-out cinder with no water, altliough Schmidt's 
nup, seven feet in diameter, and even Webb's, show among 
tfae four hundred named objects on the lunar surface many 
T^ons still called by the old names — seas. lakes, bays, marshes, 

' TUi directioii of bikii'b animistic ptopensily hu aot only nooiiihed religion 
te idcaH, and has bccD strangely perxittvm nmong wise men. P)'lh9gt>rai 
Ikqgh tb« DKwa peopled with \»it:cT animals and irccs than the earth. Masy 
^*n doec thongfat it a mirror in which ihcy could read what was caking place on 
onk. Flammanon found over a hundred imagioary voyages to the moun. Luuis 
II'V propowd a 10,000 foot telescope to show the animals in the tnoim. Al- 
I^Mfb its ail cao iwt exceed ODe-one-hundreil-and-tiftlcth of ouis in baiometTic 
l>B<u<e, it has lately been serionsly urged that moon men might be hahicnaled 
Id mime nreTaiction. that aor air would drawn them, and lu ar^ue thai it has 
It" lohitMaais wotild be the reasoning of a fikh. A Sady who avked Arago what 
*u <Mk ihv tide of the mooD we never see, what about its inhabitants, its ^ects 
>> the vsihef and OB love, 00 bcjnganiwered thiU he did not know, icroEd away 
w l iimii ig, " What then is the use o( bein^ so learned 7 " The Uerlin Acadeiny, 
BMriof ihu careful rvcofdssbow thai ttie luooo had noclTect on the wciiher, «Hp- 
F*Kd ike predictions In its oflkial almanac, but iit sale, on which to much of th« 
*^M7'* iaooiBc depended, was w reduced that they were restored. 



etc. There are, therefore, no clouds, no plant or animal lif 
and during the long lunar day, equal to fourteen of ours, its| 
temperature passes from at least 200 degrees below zero: 
up to that of boiling water and even far above. Although I 
the best telescopes bring it within less than a hundred miles, 
and few terrestrial countries are mapped so fully and truly as 
the surface always tumctl toward us. and on which the earlh- 
shine is from thirteen times as large a surface, it is nothing 
after all but a traveling corpse of a world which no doubt once 
had life on it but is now a silent prophecy of what our planet 
will sometime come to. G. H. Darwin tells us the earth-moon 
system began at least fifty-four tnillion years ago, when the 
earth was revolving so fast that a day was from only two to 
four hours long, that tidal friction is still separating the moon 
and earth, and that in a calculable tirne, some millions of years 
hence, the rotation of the latter will be so retarded that we 
shall have a day of nine hundred and sixty hours. The great 
selenographers, like Beer. Maedler. Neison, began when young 
with profound sentimental interest in the moon. Has their 
love kept pace with their growing knowIe<lge of it, or is the 
intellectual zest of their maturity only its transformation? Do 
we prefer sucli modern knowledge as is above sampled to the 
old romantic zest, and what is their relation to each other? 
If we wish to make selenic experts, should we first expose 
them to the raaxinimn of poetic inebriation before extermina- 
ting it by knowledge? In these profound questions we face 
again the vast problem of myth and SL'iencc. To tell the moon- 
struck maiden that she is gazing at a globe of cold lava is a' 
shock akin to that which the (Greeks felt when told by An>-tus 
that Socrates held the moon to be a stone. Although the great 
heliamist denied this heresy and declared that all m«i knew the 
moon was a god, this was no doubt one motive to his «>n- 
dem nation. 

Interest in things celestial is perhaps as good a mark as 
any for di.stinguishing between the highest brute and the lowest 
human mind. Our race became men when they looked up, and 
perhaps reason and scientific thought began in musing on the) 
causes of day, night, seasons, storms, etc., in the heavens. ' 
Moon-zest seems earliest. Day and sun were matters of course, 
while the moon came and went, changed form, and was visi- 


Me in ihe quiet, reverie part of the day. SchulUe ' thinks 
mxin. sun. moving planets, the fixed stars sui<hling the vault 
of night, and all rotating on the pole as an axis about uur cen- 
tral eartli, and last tlie blue sky itself, is the order in which 
these five passed one after anotlier as culture developed 
tliruugh the four stages of manisni. wlicn cacli was regarded 
as only the sensuous object it seemed; animism, when a soul 
was given it; polytheism, when each was divine: and finally 
cadi in ttie above order came to be thought only an instrument 
or symbol of one power back of and including them, and only 
at this last stage did monotheism and the adoration of the 
All-Father arise. Each successive stage emancipated from a 
lower idolatry. As each successively emerged from the neuter, 
dung, or it stage and became masculine, the lower and sup- 
planted object lapsed, as primitive languages show, to the 
feminine gender. However this be, the spectacle of the 
Iieavcns must have had much to do in evoking mtnd. wherever 
raind exists in the universe, by its endless fascinations. 

V. It is hardly too strong a statement to say that there 
is nothing whatever that the plastic, pol}Tnorphic fancy of chil- 
ilrcn does not see in the clouds. Not only is everything on 
eanh mirrored and transfigured there and everything read, re- 
flected and pictured, but the factual and lilcrar%' world is far 
Innscendetl, and many things with no eartlily counterpart are 
levealed to the imagination of which they are perhaps the chief 
sdiool, inspirer, and in no small degree the creator. If instead 
of living at the bottom of a deep sea of air with such changing 
phenomena taking place above us, so in contrast with the fixity 
of earth, we can conceive human life possible on. e. g., the 
cloudless rooon. the soul would have been a very difTcrent and 
far more prosaic thing. Not only is c\erylhing seal in cloud- 
land, but every known emotion and every sentiment is strongly 
played on by its scenery. Its vast re[«:rtory of effects has done 
roucb (o make the life of feeling deep, rich, and variegated. 
THc " moods of heaven's deep heart " are rcBeclcd in our own. 
Thc)' have inspireti so much in myth and poetry that without 
doDd-psychoses l»oth would suflfer great loss. We should have 
had no vision of Ezekiel or John, should have lost most of the 

> rsyctiologie dcr Natorvdlker, lyctpxig, 190O, p. 31S ei Jfq. 

I So 


best of tlio old Aryan myths, and the Vcdas and Bihie prophe- 
cies would be impoverished ; we would have had no Niobe, 
Nephcle, swan maidens, gofdcn fleece, Valkyries, harpies, no, 
or a very different Odin, W'alhalla. Jove, Hermes, Polyphe- 
mus, Phryxos, Hellc, Phaiakian ships, great roc, houris, no 
Greek or old Hindu heaven, no sphinx, Apollo, etc. The child's 
imagery ahout clouds is not only rankly profuse, but sometimes 
of uncontrolled or almost delusional intensity. Many think 
the}* see real angels, saints, faces of God, friends, landscapes, 
seascapes, shipwrecks, fairy islands, castJes, Queen Mab's shin- 
ing tent, volcanoes, chariots and horses, monsters, battles, car- 
avans, swords, banners, patterns and tapestry of supreme tint 
and texture, hands, fish, Santa Glaus, Indians, dead people 
lying in slate. Dido, Judgment-day scenes, cities. Qirisl on his 
sparkling throne, geographical scenes, conflagrations, views in 
heaven, animals, whicli arc often as numerous as Bible scenes, 
flowers and trees, and things loo grand, beautiful, and fearful 
for earth. Distances are greatly underesli mated, so tliat every- 
thing is near and the effects are immediate and almost reflex. 
They often want to go to. touch, roll, plunge into tlieir downy 
Buhstance, lie in, sail oflf with them, follow the persons, or take 
part in the scenes they see in tliem.' Some find themselves un- 
consciously so absorbetl in watcliing the transformations that 
they involuntarily sigh or cry out with i>ain when the pictures 
change or fade. Some fonn settled habits of watcliing tliem, 
not for fancy, but merely for the joy of color and form. 

With adolescence all this undergoes a characteristic cliange 
for those sensitized to clouds. Instead of wanting to soar away 
to, float with, embrace or be embraced by them, their lovely 
shapes inspire youth with a vague lojiging for greater beauty 
than earth affords. Transient as they are. they stir suggestion 
in his soul of something nobler and purer than has been, and 
arouse moral and esthetic aspiration. Not physical contact or 
levitation, but inner exaltation, a hunger of soul for a larger 
and more glorious life, is now the normal reaction. Ideal con- 
structions are suggested beyoml the immediate presentation of 
sense. The thrills are of ethical expansion. The mind is led 

* See my paper with J. E. W. Wallin : How Childrea and Vouih Think ud 
Feel about Qoud*; fed. Scm., vol. it. pp. 4SO-S06. 



to regions of inefTable tranquillity and oE light unsullied till 
tarth seems dull, gloomy, solitary. There is no real illusion, 
less fear, but far more often lingering, Init perhaps sweet, de- 
pression. Youth does not picture weather people or perhaps 
not even angels or God just behind the clouds, veiled by Ihem 
from the sight of men as they f\n their work, and the lieaven 
ihey suggest is no longer literal or just Iieyond or in the clouds, 
for all the space ideas are vastatetl. Reliindness is metamor- 
phosed intn symbolism. Even the colors that inundate and 
intoxicate the brain in such vast variety typify life. The color 
seme, nowhere so satisfied as in some cloudscapes, besides its 
sensuous beauty, has some mystic meaning, or at least suggests 
some problem though it can not be solved or even formulated. 
The illusion is gone, but the fancy persists, and the feeling 
far more. The celestial picture gallery speaks to the heart 
more than to sense. Through the teens and early twenties the 
fantasies will fade and perhaps almost vanish, so that the effect 
is immediately upon the mood with diminishing constructive 
imagery. The transiency of these ghostly silhouettes suggests 
that man and all things, even the earth itself, will melt away 
and vanish. Words themselves can not so mirror every emo- 
tion or mood from joy or brightness to depression and melan- 
choly. They symbolize everything in life, and perhaps nothing 
can so elevate and expand tlie feelings. If the natural cloud 
tropism of this age is indulged, Ruskin. who more forcibly than 
any one else has insisted that othenvise the imagination is 
dwarfed and sentiments crippled by disuse, thinks that genius 
often 6nds here the inspiration for its masterpieces. Thus in 
an added sense, " to the solid ground of Nature trusts the 
mind that builds for aye." 

Nephelopsychoses. if such a word may be coined, are dis- 
Bctly more prominent and numerous among girls than boys, 
as the female organism is more conservative this of itself 
iiggests rapport with phylogeny. They take a deeper hold on 
he soul at adolescence, and the feelings, which are so pro- 
y stirred by them, are older than the intellect and are the 
form in which new momenta of heredity are expressed, and this 
»n suggests race experience. Perhaps we can now, in view 
new data from child study, compare, although with much 
vagueness and uncertainty, the two. In the early histor)* of the 



race clonds were observed more intensively and protensively 
because they were thought to reveal the feelings of the divine 
powers toward men and to forecast future events. Qoud-gaz- 
ing was very likely a very serious and anxious business. Abo- 
riginal people lived in the country, and its monotony and the 
absence of social excitement inclined to attentive scrutiny of 
the ever metamorphosing landscape above, while pastoral and 
agricultural life, because more dependent on the weather, in- 
creased interest in them as weather- bearers. Witli the modem 
child they form a far smaller pan of the environment-, he is so 
well sheltered that weather is less important; liecause younger 
at tlie same stage his constrnclive facullies are less developed, 
and so his concepts are less clalwrated and the faculties in- 
volved are slowly lapsing to vestigial rudiments. Because liv- 
ing in an age when traditions on the subject are less evolved 
and dominant, his mind is freer, its creations more varied and 
fleeting, life about him is more interesting and distracting from 
the heavens, and he sometimes actually grows myopic in mind 
because he renounces looking upward, which is ctyniologically 
the most characteristic act of man, anihropos. Powers that 
once entified and personated objects are atrophied, or if youth 
becomes a cloud-gazer it is for pasl-me and not seriously or for 
business, ^'outh now knows and feels that clouds are always 
mere phenomena and appearance with nothing noiimcnal, and 
however ignorant he nny he. all his neplielopsychoses arc under 
the dominance of knowledge enough of condensation and 
vaporization to kill this factor of mystery forever and his 
reaction is purely emotional. 

Children wonder, fear, and admire impressive cloud-scenes. 
But ymith feels nameless longings, awe. reverence, or vs home- 
sick for a great Inve and melted to tenderness, and rises from 
the thought of something behind the clouds to that of a power 
behind nature. The pleasure and pain and all the other senti- 
ments suggested are often disprop«:)rtionately great compared 
with the strength of the stimulus, and that suggests inheritetl 
ps>'chic vestiges from a far past. The chiUI's images are the 
foreground of the soul and are of some hundred diflferent spe- 
cies and varitics in our less than four hundred persons, with 
but few stable and iiiiiform reactions. With youth the cloud 
language is addressed to the heart and its responses are no less 



varied and voluminous. The child o1>ser\'es in its hasty and 
cursory way and reacts by pictures that a painter might attempt 
to portray. Youth, too, observes hut more absent- mi iitledly and 
in reverie, and its reactions only the poet's pen, not the painter's 
bftish, could seek to represent. One would conserve the visual 
glory by depicting it ; the other would perpetuate the sentiment 
inspired by inditing. In the child the intensity of the emo- 
tions of fear and painfu! reaction arc most disproportionate to 
the cause, and in youth suggest inherited vestiges from an age 
when man was at the mercy of uncontrolled forces in nature. 
In the youth, joy, with perhaps often the rapture of woe, is 
incited by effects more felt than seen, suggesting a pre- 
potency of the subjective over the objective t!iat dates to a later 
age when love was well on with its great work of casting out 
fear and was beginning to give nature a new language but 
had no! yet found its own by focusing its wide-ranging sec- 
ondar)' psychic qualities on a chosen mate. The religious 
reactions are so prominent that religion itself and the senti- 
ments on which it rests would be very different witliout tliem. 
Tlicj- lift thoughts and perhaps prayers upward, and give a 
sense of reality to tenuous and heavenly things. At no moment 
does the world above seem so overwhelmingly and intensely 
real as when thunder roils overhead. Very oftei] special cloud 
experiences are indelible, and religious imagery and faith are 

sometimes gi\-en a great reality and material support.' 

We also here find the old contrast between sentiment and 

science: The feelings are not edified by learning that clouds are 

' A girt of MveeKcn one ereiung « iht scAshore saw a cloud m if all the rivers 
in llie «oHd were hung up lo dry like ribbons : could not bear to have il fnde, 
ad vuted lo pdni il. Another, when thirteen. law a cloud at sansci beuuiifuUy 
teed ud ihe ihape of an uigel's wing, which brought lo mind a young (Hend 
who bad |0« died, »nd *he hod lo weep, A girl of nineteen, waiting (or a train. 
■• a doiid Kke a lava river with a distant volcano, which changed to a sea of ice 
•J ikcn brf4ine a silver path leading from earth lo heaven, which seemed like the 
«na ud narrow way which led to liJe eternal, and it wax (ell might be a special 
wVBiaS C" her. A girl of nineteen saw JeiUH slowly amending, glitd but glorious, 
aad viiJud lo n«e with him. One saw the resurrection enacted and watched with 
«*«t»ieeit again, .\noiher ctune to believe in heaven from seeing Christ with 

"nOfa vlijie. Commanirm with clouds sometimei consolei in afHiction ; encour- 

*P*U^pafposcaitd resolve ; thrcaicns or iniitnidalcs wrong; answers questions; 

**^k Mtnu; ults fortunes : teaches aspimton and idealism, &nd even bellel ta 

^ raliiy of loBli ud inunorUiity. 


aqueous vapor or by memorizing their names or studying their 
laws ill meteorology. Here, too. there is a light that goes out 
in tlie heart wh«i the hght of science is kindled in the mind, 
and we have many records of children who resist the first nev^ 
adult knowledge with a vehemence that suggests the long war- 
fare between science and religion^ as rain comes to be under- 
stood as precipitation and not leakage from a sea above the 
fimnmeTit. or the opening of heavenly windows. But here, 
too, imagination is the propaidciitic. and myth and poetry 
the Vorfrucht of science, making the mental soil friable and 

Vr. Young children invent many mental images concern- 
ing the wind. It sleeps and wakes, whistles, whispers, pipes, 
roars, frets, sings, howls, sobs, gasps, sighs, screams. It is 
very often personified and talked to. It sometimes seems to 
make exclamations like ah! whew! sol look out! hark! go 
away! and is often talked back to, etc.; is a giant; lives in 
the mountains of clouds; frolics, scolds, caresses, strews 
light about, etc. In its roar they hear music, battles, laugh* J 
ter, anguish, as did primitive man. and as metaphor and 
poetry still describe. It is a friend of trees, which perhaps 
start it, or quarrels with clouds, or it may be a waving 
figure. In the teens most of these images fall ofT. but the 
wind often has the most intimate raf'f>ori with moods. Its 
whistling and piping may bring intolerable ennui and unrest. 
or, again, it lulls to sleep, and murmurs interjections if not 
even words. Strong wind suggests what God can do and often 
seems to indicate and measure the d^ree of his anger. The 
powers of the air, which the ancient Hebrews and so many 
other races have invested with myster)- and awe, suggest 
gentle spiritual presences. Zephyr and Boreas are perhaps 
faintly personified; they bring and lake messages of love, 
come from lieiiven or are tlod's breath. It perhaps first of all 
taught men the tremendous lesson of the reality and causal 
efficiency of something unseen, so that not only in our own but 
in many languages, etj-mologies of words suggesting soul and 
spirit mean simply wind. Psycho-physical researches have 
shown the strong effect of humidity, altitude, and barometric 
pressure unaided by noise, and sudden change in affecting 
moods, and our returns give abun<lant evidence that there arc 



at least niany aiicinic souls over wiiich most o£ all in adolescent 
years .^lus makes his dotninioii felt. 

The wind now often seenis to express sentiments alniit our 
acts and thoughts. It is fricntlly or at eninlty. perhaps there 
are ghosts or witches in it. Instead of cuddling away or fidget- 
ing like tlie child, many youths are made mentally restless, .^nd 
the suggestive power of a high wind seems vastly increased. 
Some fancy themselves at sea with all the symptoms of sea- 
sickness; others imagine possible and impossible disasters, 
many kinds of animals, battles, machinery, cars, thunder, every 
mood of the ocean, pathetic scenes. Sunietiincs these are in 
vivid imager>'. The ..^lian Pan pipe has wondrous power 
over the soul and comes so close that its every change of pitch 
or loudness is followed by psychic changes of stress or tension. 
This wind-song needed only to be fretted with tonality and liar- 
□essed with scales lo create music, the power both to compose 
and feel which it has helped so much- Interesting, too, is the 
fact of anemophobia. From feeling the incessant changes in 
intensity and direction which are as close as our pulses, but 
whidi follow no known law and awaiting with nervous or 
bated breath its " wliat-next," this bandmaster of the inany- 
DMOibered orchestra of nature-music plays on the whole ganuit 
of our emotional life, and overwrought souls are still .-Eolus 
caves from which may yet be looseil imaginary winds that 
threaten to sweep away earth, sea. and heavens.' Thus, what 
in children is nerve-stress from high barometric pressure, tends 
in youth to anxieties. 

Like the race, the child knows wind long before it sus- 
perts the existence of the atmosphere as an all -encompassing, 
shoreless, island-less sea on the very bottom of which we have 
tocrawl out our lives. In regard to this mechanical mixture of 
gases, full of odors, motes, smokes, a heat-trap for the solar 
rays, and so a blanket to give the earth a warm and more 
ojiiable temperature, abounding in germs even almost lo the 
pole, so that it has its own biology, exerting vast pressure with- 
out and within the btnly. so that we hve by and on it. creating 
in neurotic temperaments claustrophobic and globus symptoms^ 

' My " Fe»r»"; Am. Jour. <A Pay., vo;. viU, p. lyi. 
■ Fcmn, p. t6a. 




tlie element by which all hfc is sustained, the fonn in which all 
things have existed, to which Ihey are re- resolvable, its skyey 
color being cosmic dust, the rich body of facts and of still richer 
symbols is now in order. The simple laws of dew point, pre- 
cipitation, boiling points, other nodes in the ihennic scale, 
and other rudiments of meteorology should l>e taught by those 
broad enough, while drilling in isotherms and isobars, currents, 
apparatus, weather forecasts, etc., not to ignore the state of 
mind that needs also to muse on the ether of the empyrean of 
Hippocrates or Dante to be breathed only in mountain life, 
where it gave inspiration because it was the medium in which 
the gods lived. Teachers who can draw at need upon the his- 
toric stages of development here, not omitting poetry or the 
modern theories of ether wliile the mind of the boy in his teens 
can be so easily taught the stimulating and expanding little 
which only the wisest know, and perhaps get his first ravishing 
glimpse of the frontier of human knowledge, lead his mind 
captive at will. 

VII. The thermal scale as now explored by science ranges 
from near the absolute zero of 460 below, where energ)- seems 
to die and chemical action ceases, up to circa 15.000 above, 
where most solid substances volatilize. In his own body, man 
can vary but some ten degrees and live and his environment 
and that of all animal existence has for the most part a range 
of hardly more than 100° F. Although placed far nearer the 
lower than the upper limit of controllable heal, he is nearly 
four times nearer the pain limit of heat than of cold. These 
sensations early orient the child, which like all beings, whether 
by tropisin or sense tends to the thermal optimum most favor- 
able for the most intense vitality. One of the most fascinating 
activities of the child's mind is found in the instructive curios- 
ity and the creative reactions up and down the thermometric 

Jack Frost seems to be the child's thermal correlate of 
Loki, the heat sprite of Teutonic mythology. He appears to 
fin a real need of the childish soul and is vastly more plastic 
and less conventionalized than Santa Claus. He lives in snow- 

' See mjr iiuiiy wilh C- E. Brownvi Children's He« of Fire, lieu, Frost and 
Cold-, Ped. Sein., Much, 19DJ). vol. «. pp. 17-3$. 



banks, icebergs, caves, with GoJ, in the earth, sky, air, in the 

sun : is an icicle, a snow-man, a snowflake; is invisible because 

he is so small, of mounrainous bulk, six inches high, like an elf, 

Puck, a fairy, a brownie, a dwarf, an owl, a bug, a pigeon, 

a painter of the windows with pictures of trees, fields, animals, 

flowers, ferns and leaves, woo<ls, caves, seas, and many of the 

forms such as fancy sees in the fire, clouds, or moon; makes 

them bad or good according to the children's conduct; etches 

them in or " breathes on things to make tiiein white and stiff ;" 

nips grass and flowers; pinches noses, fingers, toes, checks; 

carries a bag of complexion powder: huwls in the wind, on 

which he rides drawn by rabbits, or flies on the backs of birds; 

can go through closed doors and windows; is a *' cold devil;'* 

is old, young; icicles are his whiskers; his hair and beard arc 

wliite or powdered with snow; he opens nuts with an ice 

Sword; wanders by night hke a lost soul; sleeps by day; all 

he touches cracks; he controls the weather; is spiteful or 

rogui^, wicked or kind; and is far more prominent in the life 

of girls than in that of boys. 

Much of this is, of course, due to suggestion, but it is al- 
most impossible not to believe that much is spontaneous and 
original in the fecund fancy of children. Why he is more com- 
manly conceived than a heat sprite is probably not because 
there is no " cold sun " or central source of cold and the soul 
needs something concrete and so makes it, for the child mind 
docs not conceive the sun as the one source and center of heat. 
Is 11 because there is no " cold fire '* or chemical phenomena 
from which cold radiates like heat from the hearth, and that 
the mind therefore tends to create a nidus for the polar opposite 
of heat by some kind of unconscious process like that invoked 
by philologists to explain so much, c. g.. iheir principle of anal- 
ogy? Perhaps the view most immediately suggested by our 
returns is that Jack Frost comes as near or nearer than any- 
thii^ else to be an independent modem creation of the child 
oiind. Like every mythological personation, it was lielpe<l on 
liy many facts and suggestions from many sources and is not 
» creation ex niitih any more than were those of antiquity or 
savagtiy. Yet here perhaps we have the best key within our 
'■■ery doiirs for unlocking the mysteries of racial myth-making. 
True, iis products here are very crude, rank, extremely diverse, 


and undomcsticatetJ by literature or art. Here, for once, chil- 
dren in our uvcr-illuminatcd age and latkd escaped the peda- 
gogic grafters and put forth a fresh, vigorous, wild shoot that 
is indigenous and expresses their own soul and does not 
merely reHcct what adults have put into it. Better yet, each 
makes his own Jack Frost, and he is still plastic, unconvention- 
alized. ununiformitized. and unstandardized. 

'ITie charm of fire-gazing is a great school of the plastic 
imagination. The excitant is far more mobile than clouds, and 
still more so than frost forms on the window pane. IE the very 
Eigenikitt of the retina starts llie photistic forms that Gallon 
and many others have much more than anything 
else in the physical world the incessant changes of fire are cal- 
culatetl to arouse suggestion, and the series of vivid pictures it 
presents to set up manifold trains of spontaneous reverie that 
hold the soul under a spell that is rudely broken. like sudden 
awakening, if the embers fall or some outer interruption brings 
us back to ourselves and to the present. Here children see 
animals' faces, sky and sea scenes, clouds and ships, flowers, 
pixies, brownies, fairies, dwarfs, monsters, soldiers and battles, 
demons and angels, eyes, blood, landscapes, illustrations of 
stories, gods and devils, hell and heaven, dances, church 
service, chimeras, a hut becomes a palace, air castles, caves and 
mines of precious metals and diamonds, volcanoes, everything 
in action and rapidly changing and flitting fears that crea- 
tures may break out or beauties vanish. The child hears the 
noises of every animal and insect; the fire creatures laugh, cry, 
sing. roar, moan, are angry, unhappy; leaves rustle and waves 
beat audibly : they or the very wood or coal scream in agony 
till we pity them, or are talkative to each other; the whips 
crack ; the guns go oflf in volleys ; the hyenas and wolves growl ; 
and children are rapt and absorbed almost to the point of hyp- 
nosis, while many of these experiences are so vivid that they 
are recal led long after. Smoke, too, is dirty steam, baby clouds, 
fairy toIk's. soap-suds, the breath of the fire or of the animals 
in it, scorched or roasted air. live ghosts or birds. Ashes are 
death, cold and corpse-like, no longer light and alive, but dead 
and dark, wood or coal with the light and heat taken out of 
them ; tbe clothes the baby brands are put to bed in when the 
fire is raked, cold fire, softened wood, the stuff we are all made 



of and what we shall all return to at last, and hence shivery 
and dreary. So with flushed face and spellbound mind, the 
world and life are all reflected in the soul, its moral lessons 
taught in this primal philosophy of tlie chimney comer, and the 
sonl oriented to Llie hegimiiiig and end of all things. Ilappy 
the family and even tlie schoulroum that can still thus expose 
the youthful soul to these lessons, and without the open, blaz- 
ing fireplace, which needs the story hour, no story can be 
quite complete. 

Disequilihratetl children go further and develop phobias in 
both and a mania in one direction. Among the fears often 
flitting, and sometimes morbid, are that it will get hotter or 
colder till e\*erything will hum or freeze, while the passion for 
burning things, universal in infants, if not repressed hy reason 
may later issue in pyromaiiia with its complicated motivations. 
hi the souls of early races, which are only those of children 
magnified, the culture period logins with the domestication of 
fire, or subjecting Agni, or the yet wilder Ix)ki, to the rule 
of Hestia. It made the hearth the center of domestic life, and 
m temples was kept by perpetual ministrations as a sign of 
imrnortality. The Parsces punished its defilement by death. 
When rekindled every fifty-two years in the Aztec mountains, 
it meant a renewed covenant with the gods that their dcvas- 
tatir^ anger should not flame forth to man's destruction, shear- 
ing the forest hair of the earth and making havoc. Many a 
myth of its origin, many a fomi of fire burial, and many a 
t)pe of baptism by fire show that this brother of the wind and 
sea has Iwen Ixjth more friendly and more cruel to man than 
any of the elements. It is no wonder he is more profoundly 
pyrotactic than he knows, dominated unconsciously even in his 
fnigrations by It. Through it man commuricales with the 
gods in sacrifice. It is a symbol of purification and even spirit- 
ualiution and etherization. The smoke of altars is incense 
inhaled by divine nostrils. Its tongue of flame lapped the bumt- 
ofFering and was the emblem of the gift of the Holy Spirit. 
Without thermal experience life would be robbed of much 
dioi^ht. and metaphor, and science, and morals would lack 
nany rcenforcements: there would he no hells of heat or cold, 
and life would be monotonous, if not indeed as impossible as 
are two dimensional beings. Even sympathy, from which 

1 90 

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE arose, almost began witli warrn-b!(»oded animals whicli 
brooded egg's anrl inaibated their young, whicli tbns passed 
more rapidly through the dangerous period of immaturity, and 
which, because they were warm-blooded, needed to cluster t'> 
gcthcr and thus developed racial instincts and the need of 
mutual help and companionship.' 

If one were to attempt a bold, comprdicnsivc, systematic 
construction of a theory of tlie world based on what Basttan 
calls natural thinking, made up of thoughts nearest to sense, 
conforming to Avanarius's law of easiest and most economical 
mentation and including a pedagogy, a cult, and a most natu- 
ral Iwcausc most naive religion, perhaps he might well attempt 
to do so by developing and coordinating the suggestions, now 
scattered and incfTcclivc.of this Ihcnic. Heraclitus. the obscure 
thinker of Ephesus, whose fragments since Ljsallc have been 
composed and rearranged like sibylline leaves in many ways 
and made to teach many things, represents, some think, the 
highest product of indigenous Greek thought before the So- 
cratic period started on the alien, politically motivated, quest 
of ineluctable foundation on which to rebase the crumbling 
state- Peywatcr, Schuster, Bemays, Patrick, and, alxive all, 
Teichmuller, have re-revealed some of the grand features of 
his system, as geologists suggest the vague outlines of vast 
mountains now worn away, from the hints of many clinal and 
anticlinal strata. Both modem science and genetic psychology 
supply new hints as to what is partly lost and partly might 
have been, or indeed may yet be when the scientific imagination 
supplements facts by heroic hypotheses, as Plato .supplemented 
his positive teachings by the great myths which still so appeal 
to tlic heart and in later theological ages had mere influence 
than even his doctrines. 

As the sun was daily secreted out of the earth, leaving it 
a little colder and darker, but reabsorbed at night, so the soul 
is a fiery particle secreted out of nature and returning to it 
at death ; its activity a " degree of burning," glowing, kin- 
dling, its culture a second sun arising from unconscion.sness as 

' A. SvlhcrluDi] ; Origin tuid Growth at the Moral InRlincI; London, i8c^; 
chtps. iii to V. nnd Also x. See kIso the snggcslion thai if mun were lo become 
•itinct, bird* have most potenlitlity of Inking their plKe &l the hcftd of the 
Boinml kingdom. 



the physical sun from the earth. All things may fallow the 
" way down " (" the death of fire is to become air. that of air 
to become water, that of water to become earth," or that of 
steam to becomt water, and of water to become ice), or the 
way up in successive eons with reversion at some epochal era; 
so the light of reason may " bum high or bum low,' as sense 
and matter prevail and we become sarcous, or as spirit and 
wisdom predominate we may be slowly transmuted, first into 
great men, then into deity. " or die the fiery death," for there is 
no rupture of continuity and we are Iiomoousia with both ex- 
iremcs. Then perhaps we may again one day say with Herac- 
litiis. " If one wander through all ways he will nut reach the 
limits of the soul, in so great depths does it hide," which Tren- 
delenburg interprets to mean that the soul has unlimited power 
to know all because it is of the same nature as all things. 

This philusopheme took the next step beyond the myths, 
ind its pedagogic relations to our thermodynamic world are 
strikingly suggestive of those of youth to maturity. To eval- 
uate each of these stages as prelusion and preparation is a 
great and real task that genetic psychology has yet before it. 
Till it is solved there will be waste and loss in teaching, and 
*1iat is worse, waste and loss in the pupil's life. 

VIII. Man's body affords abundant proof of his pelagic 
origin. After the vertelirs appear in the human embryo, it 
can not be determined for some time whether it is to be a 
6sh, reptile, or quadrupe<l. At one stage the human bnitn. as 
DeVarigny first pointed out, is like that of a fisli, but if it is 
tobethal of a man, the development goes on. His heart is first 
two-chambered, like a fish's. Man has gills, which arc later 
slowly metamorphosed into lungs and a double cirailatlon cs- 
taUtsbed. In human monsters the gill-clcfts arc sometimes 
not closed in the neck, and in many children their traces can be 
seen as lighter spots. As the embryo grows, one of these slits 
is transformed into the thymus and probably into the thyroid 
gUnd. Dohrn thinks man's mouth was developed by the 
hiaon of a pair of Ihcm and the olfactory organs from another 
pair; that the eye muscles are remnants of gill muscles; and 
most agree that the middle and outer car, the Eustachian lube 
wiJ tympanum, and perhaps even the external ear which occa- 
sionally crops out in the neck, are derived from them. 



If this be so, it is plain that at ihat stage it is important 
that the gill-slits be well developed, Ic5t otherwise all these or- 
gans which arise from Iheni be imperfect — a fact which is also 
a parable of very high and wide signification in the field of 
education. At the gill-slit period of human life, man is at the 
stage of his very ancient progenitors, who once lived a pelagic 
life when there was nothing but water over the earth's surface. 
There is. of course, no reason to think that if removed from 
tlie mother's tody at this stage the very young man could 
swim away like a fish, if placed in water, as do the embryos 
of the moui]taiii salamander atra, if cut out from the mother at 
the tadpole stage, altliungh if brought forth at full term they 
drown when placed in water. If the soul is as old as the body, 
w^e shoulil expect to find some pelagic vestiges in it, although 
they be more or less effaced in childhood or reduced like the 
remnant of the nictitating membrane of the eye of the fish 
found in man. Let us glance at the evidence. 

1. Men and children have some psychomotor ph<^nomena which, 
to say the least, admit of interpretation as atavisms oi the old aquatic 
hf«. Muinford ' fuunO that if a babe a few days old was held face 
downward with only hands and feel touching the floor, it made pecul- 
iar paddling or swimming movements which would have propelled 
it through the water. The elbows open and the palm is pushed in a 
stow, rhythmic flexion and extension, in scries of two or three move- 
ments at a time, interrupted by pauses, and very like those of loco- 
motion seen in aquaria. Tliese movements he interpreted as vestiges 
of watery life. 

2. In children and even adults among many automatisms we find 
swaying from side to side, or forward and backward, not infrequent.' 
This suggests the slow oscillatory movements used by fish in swim- 
ming or maintaining their position in currents of water. In extreme 
cases these movements are very pronounced, prolonged, and may even 
become imperative and cxli.iusi the energ>' of the body. I knew a 
weak-minded girl in an asylum who rocked all ilay despite cfTorts lo 
restrain her, and died npparently from exhaustion thus caused. The 
cradle and especially the rocldng-chair may twcomc .-timost a psycho- 
sis. 'Hiis is often unconscious, as during study. We sec it in the 
rocking or back-and-forth movemenls of many targe animals confined 
in cages, in nearly all of the cat family, bears, elephants, etc., and 
sometimes in smaller vertebrates. The fact that these automatisms 


* Rrain, 1897. 

' Sec Lindley, AulomMisra, op. cit. 




are generally increasetl by fatigue favors the aquatic Uieory of ihetr 
origin, because fatigue is a tctniiorar)* remissinn of control by the 
higher and later centers, and is a reversion to lower and more primi- 
tive conditions. Wc nmy a»siinie with Holloii * ihat "all autoiiixlic as 
wdl as expressive movcaients are weakened repctiliuns of tliosc that 
were once of use." 

3- Tapping with a wrist movement or with the fingers, nodding, 
KKncttmcs intensified in chorea and paralysis agitans, and the habit 
of trotting with the fool or leg, are (bought by Bolton tu be perhaps 
also thus explained. Fish, of course, make larger movements of llie 
tail and body and finer ones with the fins, bm while we do not know 
the origin of these latter movements, this explanation must be re- 
garded as perhaps even more hypothetical for these ihan for the other 
npovenient&, all of wliidi are yet far from actual ilemonslration as 
pelagic survivals. 

4. Many movements and experiences, traces of which long persist 
in memory, with perhaps some morphological basis may be transmit- 
trd for many generations without reappearing because their proper 
stimulus is lacking or because repressed by biKbcr centers. But in 
disease or sleep which finictinnally remove the latter, these old mem- 
ories or functions may be set free. If the higher and newer centers 
art destroyed, events long forgotten sometimes reappear. The decay 
of memory begins with the new and less organized, and passes to the 
obi. so that we sometimes have glimpses of a far-ofT paleopsychic 
baiiior substrate. In sleep, which is a kind of decapitation of higher 
functions, ancient ancestral experiences crop out. Very common 
tinong these, as dream stalistics show, are floating, hovering, gliding, 
mth uticr independence of gravity; we swing high or low with the 
ttme freedom that we move horizonlally, and these nightmares are 
ilfflMl always associated with a differcTiliated respiratory rhythm, We 
pip, or breathe deep and long. One of the present writer's most per- 
wtoit dream experiences was that, liy holding the breath and con- 
(roQtng it in a peculiar way, he could rise from the ground and float 
tbreu^ the air by slight movements of the limbs and body. So urgent 
and repealed was this experience that he has many times awaked with 
s leosc projected for some nionieiils into waking life that he could 
now deinon5trate to his friends the astounding trick of levitation over 
bouses and fields at will. Similar experiences occur in many a dream 
oastts. when the subject swoops up and down, glides over hills and 
valUyv or can leap enormous distances. Now, as lungs have taken 
•he place of swim-bladders, these uni*]uc hovering experiences of 
»l«p suggest that here traces of a fnnciion have survived their known 
ttiwtore. Our ancestors floated and swam far longer than they have 
hill legs, and why may the psyche not retain traces of this as the body 
doej its mdiraentary organs? It may be that these are some of the 

' Hydro- PsjrctMSM ; AfB. Jour, of Tsy.. Jintury, 1899, vol. k, pp. 171-U7. 



oldest strata or elements of our psycliic life, a reminiscent edio of tlie 
»ca which was our primeval home aiiO mollicr. 

5- The staliKlics of suicide show that women choose this method 
much more often than men, and thai at some periods and in some lands 
they choose it in preference to any and perhaps even all oilier mcchodi. 
This is one expression of a profound psychic difference between the 
sexes. Woman's body and sou] is phyleiically older and more primi- 
tive, while man is more motlcrn. variable, and less conservative. 
Women are always more inclined to preserve old customs and ways 
of thinking- Women prefer passive methods; to give themselves up 
to the power of elemental forces, as gravity, when they throw them- 
selves from heights or take poison, in which melho<L'i of suicide they 
Surpass man. t'llis thinks drowniTi^ is becoming more frequent, and 
that therein women are becoming more womanly. Now. if we sup- 
pose that fatigue or racial rxhauslion or decay removes permanently 
or temporarily the control nf higher centers, and that this allows a 
revival of the ohi love for and power of aquatic conditions, wc have 
a suggestion for the explanation of the "drawing power" of water. 
The fear of it came later, as adjustment to land conditions made It 
more dangerous. This is normally ovcrbaianced, as in the ease ol 
Comte, who in a fit of madness plunged into ihc water. The ac- 
quired love of swimming is « later philophobic adjustment. The spe- 
cific gravity of water resists but doe^ not check movement, and tends 
to slow everything down toward passive movements. Prose, poetry. 
and ni) th have described these fascinations and peopled sea and stream 
with mythic creatures, both terrifying and captivating.' 

The problem, whether there is any palcopsychic race clement, is 
as inevitable as it is unanswerable. For one 1 am convinced that 
there is as much evidence of a specific " drawing power " or love of 
water as there now is, since the ahanilonnit-nt of a specific hydro- 
phobia, of a special aversion to it. Sf>ine can hardly bathe without an 
almost imperative impulse to plunge in forever, as if to go back to 
an old Invr. " T.ikc nic into your arms, O sea. away from the care 
and pain of life: I have always loved you more than the hard and 
bruising earth. Let mc flo.i1 and toss and wave in your embrace, and 
finally melt into the wild, wide ocean,*' is a sentiment not without 
some kinsliip to the religious motive of pantheistic absorption. 

6. Children are phyleiically even older than women, and after 
the first shock and fright most of them take the greatest delight in 
water. The shore where these forms first emerged and became am- 
phibian, to which many land forms return to lay eggs or rear their 
young, is no less than a passion to children. As Kline has shown, 
it accounts for a large proportion of all truancies. To paddle, splash, 
swim, and sun sometimes cnnsiitiites almost a hydroncurosis, and chil- 
dren pine all winter and live only for the next summer at the sea. 



It is a grievous loss if Ihcy arc nesr watrr and can not go in, and 
Uzy children walk great distances to tku-im, and sometimes go iu many 
ttmes a day. In &ome cases frequent danger, almost lo the point of 
drowning, can not wean them. Cold does not deter; the very touch 
of water on the skiit is rapture and exhilaration. If not a pond or 
river or brook, a puddle or gutter is sought, and played in cvcii in 
severe storms. If boys can not swim, tlicy raft and ^ail and fish; 
dabbling and sozzling in pails, pans, and cisterns, or splashing through 
the mud, frisking or capering through the rain with headgear and 
perhaps clothes off, is high glee. Alas for the child who ha.s not access 
to a beach! and nowhere in the world perhaps arc children so happy 
or in their clement as when there, if under favorable conditions. It 
would seem as jf some children loved to be wet for the mere sake 
of it. Sometimes the impulse to plunge in is so strong that they do so 
with clothes on. Others older or less active can sit Ify Hic honr, see- 
ing and hearing ihe movenienls of water in sea or stream. 7*lic best 
dononstration of the fact of this hydruphilia is ihc aitiount of cold, of 
firsi horror, often intensified by fancy and even superstition, real or 
imagined danger, and the occasional association with smother-feel- 
ing that it will overcome. The joy of going barefoot is never so in- 
tense as when it is possible lo wade, and the boy of twelve who dc- 
cUred that he loved water like a fish, and knew no boy who did not 
■ad was a different being when away from it, was typical. 

7- Many fonns of animal life which have had long experience on 
Ac land, have yielded to Ihc- attraction of the sea and have become 
backsliders to marine habits, and their quadrupe<lal organization has 
skmly lapsed to fish-like traits. So completely have they forsaken 
tbc land that they arc often called fishes. They still breathe with 
hmgs, and must periodically come to llic surface. Their heart is four- 
chambered, like quadrupeds; they bring forth living young, and do not 
by cgigs like fish; they are mammals, and .suckle their offspring: they 
have rudimentary teeth. legs, and iwlvis. that do not mature or have 
beco tneiamorphoscd into analogy with fins and tail. The wlmlc is, 
*rf oourse. Ihe Iiest-known lype, and must have lived a long time on 
land; but the traces of its terrestrial life have been largely effaced. 
Here, too, belong porpoises, dolphins, seals, walruses, while the polar 
bear, sea-otter, penguin, the sea-lion, beaver, duck-billed platypus, 
•tb-foo4ed oposstim, dugong, manatee, oceanic turtle, sea-snake, 
nd many others, have retrogressed in various degrees from the land 
type. Limbs are tost or arc being modified into paddles or flippers, and 
tbe chief changes have always been in the typical structures, 
wJthus IcFS strongly inherited. The whale has acquired his blubber 
for beat; the skin, claws, teeth, eyes, shape of head, are modified. 
TlKhings are often enlarged as Ihe animal acquires the power of re- 
nnioi:^ under water. Reversion increases size by reducing the energy 
rwoired in locomotion and in securing food ; while the loss of the pel- 
<fi> enables the young to be bom larger and more mature, and with 
lew iajtiry to the parent. 



To the simple animisms of children water lives, sings, 

lauglis. moans, beckons, and often talks in words and phrases 
of w}iic!i Btjilon collected many. It is roused lo truculeiice 
and anger by storms and rocks, is treacherous and wily. They 
prattle tlieir secrets lo h, scold and offer it gifts, imperson- 
ate springs, fountains, streams, and individual waves, and their 
credulity in all the water people from nixies, kelpies, and mer- 
maids to fabulous monsters, and in fairy submarine castles, 
cities, gem -bestrewn grots, knows little bounds, as the litera- 
ture on the subject copiously shows. 

Youth works a sea change and the hydropsychoses strike 
inward. The curve of runaways to go to sea rises steeply, and 
a sailor's life now makes its strongest appeal. The sea sug- 
gests eternity, as it invites thoughts to the horizon, and is 
eloquent of things which they " can ne'er express but can not 
all conceal." To be near and hear its polyphonous voice com- 
forts, soothes, rests, relaxes, and its many aspects mirror inner 
moods. It draws away and away, and one would sail on and 
on perhaps to the moon and stars and, with Mauhert. revolt 
at science that has set limits to old ocean's stream that in Ho- 
meric days not only flowed round al! but joined the sky itself. 
A friend has collected, from youthful preferences, over two 
hundred hymns that teach tlie great lessons of religion by 
aquatic tropes. Some, like the Zunis when they saw it for the 
^first time, must pray to or lieside it. In place of the childish pas- 
sion for playing in and with it. and beside the bathing craze. 
arises a love of gazing and meditating alone. Not only does 
the curve of boating take a sharp upward curve, but it seems 
instinct with a mighty and quasi <hviue power, and the tides, 
floods, currents, waves, storms, shallows, depths, and glassy 
transparency of tlie sea mirror and even make moods. Tlie ' 
soul would be as boundless, pure, profound, persevering, as 
it, depth answering depth, and as the voices of extinct gener- 
ations are heard for the first time, feels itself as old and as 
full of buried treasures and secrets, or it is truculent, treach- 
erous, wily, pacing the shingly beach to and fro, or fallii^ 
back with baffled rage, or at its priest-like task of absolution. 
Thus feeling ebbs and flows, and the current of spontaneous 
thought must go on forever. As if the rudimentary aquatic 
organs in the body had psychic resonances and sympathies 


with it, the sea, the mother of life, wakens the soul to new 
appreciation of all that it has meant in lilcralure, myth, and 
rites. Love is " bom of the deep and conies op with the sun 
from the sea," billows " break hke a bursting heart and die 
in foam"; like a shell the soul ever whispers and murmurs 
of tile main wlial of horror or charm fills its depths since old 
Silenus and the Tritons settled back into them. In the nomial 
soul there is now an outcrop of the same psychic strata which 
once created and gave life and sacredness to lustrations, I«ip- 
lisms.oracles, water deities, philosophemes like those of Thales, 
who made water the source of all tilings, or of Heraclitus. who 
saw in vapor, water, and ice the key to the universe which was 
constantly fluxing up or down the long way of rarelication and 
condensation between ether and rock. So, too, the stream is 
in a hundred ways the type of life. The soul is hydrotropic, 
and this is the sacred hour of opportunity for bringing these 
dim and dumb molimena of the soul to their issue, for wedding 
the individual promptings to the best that literature, art, his- 
tory, of the races have to offer in a w ay that makes teaching at 
its best such a high and sacred calling. Empiricist as I am in 
insisting that everything possible should be traced to a source 
in individual experience, I can not read these youthful ebulli- 
tions without inclining to believe in residual traces tb;it hark 
back through ages, and that tlie soul is still marked like our 
body by vestiges of pelagic life. Here, too, if it is dangerous 
to believe, it is no less so to disl>elie\*e.' 

IX. It would seem that nothing could be farther from 
haman sympathy than rocks, stones, and minerals of the 
earth's lithosphere. Yet hard, cold, and dark as they are, they 
h«e played a very important role in shaping .nnd expressing 
the human soul. Many, when they think of matter, image 
rock or earth of various kinds, and we owe to it much of our 
tnqiressions of solidity, while even the idea of substance in many 
raimlfi is in close raf>f*ort with impressions derived fron: this utterly irrelevant to modern mineralogy and geology. 
Menhirs, dolmens, cairns, barrows, cromlechs, topes, swastika 
of many kinds, Druid circles like Stonchenge, altars, hearths, 

' Ifcber dcv EmfloM der See au( die englisclic Ulcnilur. Drei Studies. 
A. TudKr. GtiCtM. lS9>- 




lintels, bethels, and the traditions and custonis spun about the 
Woden stone, tlirough a liole in which hands were placed when 
fidelity was sworn; the stone of St. Fillan. where, up to 1798, 
the sick were healed ; llie holy stones of Ireland, against which 
maidens leaned tu sec tlieir future husbands; rocking^ scones; 
shrine pillars; stuncs of witness, like that at Mizpah ; the black 
stone schippeda at Kmesa; wishing stones; stones of unction, 
libation, taboo, bloody rites, of judgment, of impregnation; 
king stones; sentinel stones; the famuus Ulamey stone; monu- 
ment worship in India: the Ixiunding stone, symbol of Mer- 
cury; pentile stones in France; stones of mystic shape, mark- 
ings, and charms; touchstones; natural magnets; lodestone 
mountains, Oedipus myths in many forms — all these suggest 
something analogous to a stone age for psychology', which has 
almost nothing in common witfi the industrial Stone age of the 
anthropologist. Savages often think their sacred stones move 
alxiut at night. In many pnrts of Palestine, especially the 
eastern, the archcoJogist finds almost no other remains of the 
ancient Hebrew or prc-IIcbrew cults.' 

Vcn,' strong and wide-spread is the primitive belief. perhaps 
most clearly seen in Tahiti, that stones, especially if peculiar 
in any way, have souls that go to the gods if they arc broken. 
St. Arnobius was wont to beg a blessing for every anointed 
stone. The Council of Toledo, a. d. 68 i, decreed punishment 
for stone worshipers, and in 789 Charlemagne condemned 
them. Many of these ancient relics, erecte<l because of vows, 
or to crown tumuli of unknown purpose, perhaps alined to 
perpetuate astronomic lore, etc, are products of a psychosis 
now almost extinct in adults, but relegated to ineffectual child- 

Still more interesting because revealing a still closer rapport 
with the higher development of the soul is the lore of precious 
stones." Most of these now worn as ornaments were once 

> Sec C. R. Conder: Hetli and Moab. Kxploralions in Syria in 18S1, espe- 
cially cliapler vii. Also, Survey of EuMlern PBlB»tine. vol. i, p, 302 ft it^. J. 
O'Neill; The Nit;ht of the Cod*, i, pp. (w-188. Lnbliuck: Orij:iii of CiviltuiU'Dn. 
first ed., p. ID4 H ttg. The Worstup of Scones in Frnitce, by P, Slbillot. Am. 
Anihropologlii, 190J. pp. 76-107. Mystical Propenici of Gems, by Win Tassin: 
Anniul Report SitiLiIisoman Inst., rqoo, pp. 55^-588, 

' Sw O. F. Kinu ; Folklore o( Precious Si<m«. Itit* Cong, Amhrop.. Chicano 
Exposition. 1893. Also WUliiun Jooes: tliitory and Mjtholoi^y of Preciont 
Stones : London, iSSo. 






charms, and their names often suggest wliiit they meant to the 
heart. The madstorc drew poisan ; amber, once thought a 
stone, was concentrated tears of birds or clectridcs and is still 
sometimes worn for sore throat ; the carbuncle was sacred to 
the angel Amoriel ; the touchstone was a test ; the bloodstone 
stanched : the famous bezoar from the kidney of the Arabian 
antelope was a charm against poison ; the sapphire against 
apopIe?cy: arrow-heads were fairy darts; moonstones waxed 
and waned with the moon, were clear on fortunate and dim on 
nnludcy days: the lodestone made invisible, cured headache 
and love, and is still sold to conjure with in voodoo charms; 
bydropliane, as it absorbed liquids, became opaque or trans- 
parent with psydiic correspondences ; eye agate cured sight dis- 
tempers; the chrysoberj'I or ciU's-eye drove away evil spirits; 
the Calwt stone prophesied weather; opals, beautiful as they 
are. even yet have limited sale because they bring bad luck ; 
whik obsidian, jade, chalcedony, carnelian, onyx, sarcionyx, 
Qrd, amethyst, malachite, tourmaline, draconite from the head 
of a dragon, aetites from the head of an eagle, and many others, 
were centers of superstition or symbols of sentiment, were 
worn as pendants, amulets, brooches, rings, and had a meaning 
of great pregnancy, as they were carved, faceted, variously 
colored, etc. If we extend our snn'ey to the folklore and sym- 
bolism of diamonds, gold, merairy, brass, iron, crystal, flint, 
soil, sand, and reflect on their mystical, allegorical, and mcta- 
pbjsical uses, wc shall realize what they have meant for phy- 
Idic psychogenesis. 

Autochthones spring directly from the bosom of the earth 
md feel, as Tecumseh told General Ilnrrisoii. that the earth 
WM their mother and at death they repose in her bosom. Not 
only are our bodies dust and to dust return, but for many 
primJiive races the soul leads a gnome-ltke, subterranean exist- 
BKc. The dead live on their pallid lives beneath our feet; 
affwi crops and the fertility of soil ; preside over mines and 
fcoried treasures ; and in famine, as the Mulhos of the fiolrlen 
Bough shows, must be propitiated that the earth may yield 

If we accept the Spencer-Allen view of this aspect of nature 
worship, that stones first became sacred because erected over 
graves, thus deriving their sanctity from ancestor worship, and 




even myths like those of DcucaUou. which make stones be- 
come men and therefore worshiped as their parents, we can _ 
thus see a possible origin of idolatry and can best feel whatever I 
force there is in the extreme view, which derives tlic Hebrew 
El and our Christian tiod from a sacred, ancestral stone.' 

So again in cosmic m)-ths. mountains often support the 
heavens, although sometimes the mountain is the hollow heav- 
enly vault and we are inside, not outside, it.^ Atlas's hea»i 
sometimes touches the North Pole. The Hindu mountain 
Meru is the polar home of the gods, a coltmin joining earth and 
sky, the higliest terrestrial spot; it goes through the earth and 
protrudes on the other side. The Chinese thought mountains 
form a more subtle substance than plain earth ; and Schopen- 
hauer says the study and sight of them throws us into a sub- 
lime frame of mind. They brave decay that sweeps all else 
away. Mountains are often the home of the gods, or again 
arc worshiped as themselves divine. Tlicy uphold the earth. 
AH of Ilorcb was sacred, and Hermon. meaning holy, still 
Ijcars the ruins of many temples. Here the Ephraimitcs sac- 
rificed, and many temples and churches have been built on 
sacred (nountains, a catalogue of which would probably more 
than equal all the mountains of the earth, because, as Words- 
worth said, " every mountain is finest," Many a tope and 
pyramid is an effort to rival the mountains of nature. Buddha 
made pilgrimages up mountains a symbol of the renunciation 
of earthly comforts for hardship, and such trips are still 
meritorious. The phenomena of altitude favor great thoughts 
and suggest communion with the gods. Such places they 
would choose, as have many monks, especially the Benedictines. 
On mountains dead Ixjclies are often exiKJsed, and many a 
fictitious mountain of the imagination has pierced the heart of 
heaven. On their summits are found earthly paradises, per- 
liaps wondrous gardens and fountains. The cone is a sacred 
symlxil of the hill. 

Mount Sinai is a bleak, dark granite, waterless rock, sug- 
gesting a moon mountain, because having no life, the center 
of terrible storms, an utterly unique object, an i.wlated accident 
throughout all the wide plain and Saliara desert region, and 

' Sec Cmnt AUcn : Kvoltition of ihe Ide« of Cod, chap. t. 
■ O'Neill : Nighl o( the God*, vol. ii, chap, viii, p. 383. 




altogether "one of the most singular phenomen.i on the sur- 
face of the globe." ' In a sense, it is the rnountain of Egypt; 
its bare rocks were centers of worship ages before the Heljrews 
saw it. The impression its new phenomena made, when first 
seen by a plain-dwelling people, was indehhle. Like the sacred 
mountain of Japan. Olympus and many others, it was the home 
of deity. Veiled in cloud perhaps when he descended, the God 
of Sinai was a fierce deity, who brewed storm-; and lightning 
aod rode on the wings of the wind, and so awful, that no one 
could see him and live. In his theophany, Mnses must be hid 
in the cleft of a rock and covered witii his hand and could only 
caicb a glimpse of his back parts. Jehovah was its special 
kxal deity, and Sinai after Moses was " the basis of all the 
iheotog)' of the Israelites." They became now as much the 
twople of the mountain as in the days of Ezra they became the 
people of the Sacred Book. The mountain phenomena per- 
vaded their hteralure nnd made it sublime. vVfter the appari- 
tion, it became their Parnassus and Olympus in one. The 
diildren of Israel left it tilled with awe, terror, and faith in 
the awful power of the deity, who made the earth shake and 
(htclt in a pavilion of clouds. Finally, the judgment would 
be ushered in by moimtain phenomena. 

The mind of children is still replete with fancies about 
stones. They collect luckies. carry them everywhere, and boast 
where they have been, keep them warm^ sometimes in cotton ; 
tliink sand is baby stones, plant and water them to see if they 
grow, take them apart from piles that they may not press each 
other, will not step on them, fish ihcm out of the fire and 
water, that they may fee! more comfortable, give them dirt 
and sand to cat. believe they rain down or come up from the 
ground because Uicy are so much more abundant after a 
shower, pity the little or ugly ones, think them sociable and 
perhaps put them together, give tliem names, talk to them, 
r^rd rocks as friendly or hostile, protecting or silent wit- 
nesses who could tell, regard them as related if alike, think 
they appreciate, have moral qualities and are sympathetic, and 
often regard them as fetishes.' 

'Rmtn: History of ihe People of Urae!. chap. xW. 

' F«MhiiiB in CMIdrep. bf G. Hvold Iillis; Ped. Sem.. June. t^oa. vol. ix. 



For youth this rarely survives even in the realm of play 
and " niake-heh'eve," although for some it lingers through 
life.' Our data show the following; typical changes; i. A sense 
of the groat age or pcrdurability of stones and rocks comes 
with the expansion of Ihc time sense; 2, there is a very marked 
rise of the curve of interest in precious stones and deepened 
appreciation of their beauty and their different characteristics, 
often with new superstitions; 3, the rare and distant arc more 
valued; 4, the carrying power of association is enhanced, and 
mementoes and keepsakes have more meaning and are more 
cherished ; 5, monuments, and yet more mountains, are now 
first really both comprehended and feU, the size of the latter 
being too great for the child mind ; 6. rock and eartfi come lo 
be the symlxDl of reality, solid suhstantiahty, and matter gen- 
erally; and lastly, collections of ihetn are not merely amassed, 
but ordered and grouped with far more mentality and zest for 

Geology and physical geography, the percentages of stu- 
dents in both of which are decreasing in our high schools, are 
too dehumanized for want of contact with folklore, scenery, 
landscapes, charts, and pictures, and the dynamic and historical 
elements. Paleontology, full of suggestion of the great age of 
the world, is encnmliered with details aiul technical names, and 
forgets tliat growth is analytic In the sense that large views 
and afvr^us should come first. Petrography and crystallogra- 
phy can be made impressive if taught by a full mind, which 
alone can clcmcntarizc well. So too, later, mining, mctallui^. 
economic, commercial, and industrial processes precede classi- 
fication and technique in the order of nature and mental 
growth. The study of glaciers, beaches, rlpplc-marks, old 
volcanoes, hill-top views, collections, excursions, and above all, 
talks, which is the method of the real teacher charged with t\vo 
interests, that in the subject and in the youth, these are the 
only beginnings of this age that do not disenchant. 

X. A change I am coming lo regard as at the same time one 
of the most characteristic, suggestive, and beautiful, in pubes- 
cent years, is in the new relation to flowers and plants. Before, 
both the psychic qualities ascribed to them and the impressions 


I Gould; Child Felisbes. Ped. Sem., vol. v, p. 431. 

eslwgs rcim 


ttiey make tiiion tlie cliild arc predominantly, frankly, and 

n^iively in the pliysical realm of sense. From the data of Alice 

Thayer' and others, we can now roughly describe these 

changes in the several senses most involved. Children love to 

fondle and feel of flowers, and some can hardly keep their 

hands off every flower in the garden. They are often toys, 

and played with as dolls, pets, dtshes, soldiers, and money; are 

made into wreaths, girdles, necklaces, and gaudy trimmings, 

and their petals arc soft to " poor " and stroke. The hateful 

ones are those that sting, prick, are pitchy, or leave stains; or, 

again, it hurts them to Ijc trampled, plucked, etc. But with the 

lecns they are often caressed, pressed against the checks, neck, 

lips, and kissed, and the face is buried in them. Their coolness 

and more often the velvety softness of their petals and their 

fragrance is mentioned. Tliis is more common with favorite 

flowers or those with associations with loved persons, places, 

or incidents, while reluctance to touch indifferent or disliked 

flowers is also more pronounced and relations to the other 

senses more satisfying. 

Smelt, though dominant l>efore puberty as mediating likes 
and dislikes in a purely sensuous way, is now a very strong 
iacior, in the appeal of flowers, far more subjeclive. Its irra- 
•lialion widens more and more. Odor becomes :ilmost the 
w«l of (lowers. It is an index to the human attriljutes which 
W)vr the flowers seem to jmssess, and much of their symbolism 
'* in large part suggested by ihis deepened sense. By Ihcir 
fragrance flowers suggest crime, death, funerals, the sick- 
fmm. wetldings, commencement, churches, Easter time, 
spring, the cool woods. snlttUide. the nuining brook, the open 
"dtls, sunshine, summer and harvest scenes, festive occasions, 
lore in all its many forms, may bring joy. depression, pensive- 
"ess, or voluptuous sensations that make it almost wicked to 
Mjoy the fragrance of some. Maloidorous flowers, perhaps. 
*«ni morally bad, their odors bespeak a gentle, sweet, or ugly 
•lisposition, those with pleasant odors are friendly. Disagree- 
atilc lidors are harder to overcome. A young man met and 
Hnclled of a wild rose unexpectedly in a field, and. with no 
conscious process, found himself crying, and only after some 

■ An «rlide >oon to a,ppuir in the Pcd. Sem. 


time could recall that years ago his mother, now dead, called 
him in the doorway as he stood at that spot. Thus they may 
scent the very heart, " their breath make sweet a world of 
pain," " their censers with faint odors swinging," or, again, 
they may fret the nostrils and through them the soul with fetid 
and nauseous exhalations. 

So, too, their color flames more Inwardly at this age, sug- 
gesting blood, fire, sky, snow, and January fields, solitude and 
sociability, precious stones, sunlight, flaslies of glittering gold 
(although most hated flowers are yellow). Chromatic likes 
and dislikes unfold a complex sjinbolism. While means 
purity ineffable: red, plerunial life and love, and is of the 
heart; purple is regal. Colors seem more intense, and there 
is something mysticalty. transcendently real behind them. 
Their relations make whole symphonies of harmony or painful 

Taste seems least of all changed, while bad tastes do not 
so immediately blight beauty. Plants and flowers that are 
medicinal, poisonous, or edible, tend to be excluded from the 
esthetic sphere, as use and beauty grow apart. These changes, 
however manifest, are slight compared with others. To the 
child flowers live and die, grow, sleep, are tired, sick, feel 
hunger, thirst, and temperature. They are loved because they 
are bright, pretty, or fragrant. TlieJr wounds may even be 
bandagetl : there are prayers and thanks for rain for their sake. 
Some would like to become flowers, but the corrective thought 
is that they die soon or are neglected, alone, out nights, and 
so children would be like them, the motive being that they are 
loved or caressed by some one whose good-will they wish to 
obtain, or because they arc l>eautifHl, or they would be as pure, 
sweet, and good as the flowers. In Plato's figure, man is him- 
self a plant of heavenly parentage, and the child is in the 
vegetative stage. 

With adolescence, the flower world slowly acquires a new, 
far more diversified and inward meaning. Tangibility and 
sense arc less, and subjective resonance more. Their relations 
become more internal and they have psychic more than physical 
bearings upon human life. While many previous tendencies 
are developed, others are shed, and wc meet the frequent 
phrases " suggest," " seem like," " stand for," " speak of," for 



both the nascent and the decadent responses of the soul. The 
number of cultivated as distinct from wild flowers, especially 
for city children, tliat are known and also that arc both liked 
and disliked, increases. There is a new sense for form and 
diape. Individual preferences come out. Crass forms of 
fancy slowly yield to sentiment, and early fictions are no longer 
believed but are felt. and their effects persist as if they had been 
absorbed and had fertilized the heart. The pure animism of 
the diild fades, Uiough it may persist as a feeling in a deepened 
sense. Some are perplexed to find hateful and lovely qualities 
in the same flower, or pity those sweet in scent but ugly in 
form or color. 

As to language, for the child flowers nod or shake yes or 
no, whisper witli squeaky voices in pccpy mouths like fairies 
in disguise, asking for water or care, have a speech for each 
other, and when alone at night or in the moonlight, perhaps, 
are heard to say, " Do not tread on us." " Take me with you," 
" Uve. or be like us," " Spring is here," *' Be happy." " VVc 
ctxneout from nature for you." They at least try to say some- 
thing very sweet in a silent language, or they sigh, sing, sob, 
have delectable things they could say, are voluble to bees, birds, 
trees, and grass. But while the average pubescent no longer 
bears or believes in vocal speech, he holds all the more to a 
higher symbolic communion. Their motions are full of grace, 
bedraning and gesture. They are seers revealing the real heart 
01 nature to us. They meditate, s^'rapathize. are hard or easy 
to get acquainted with, incite to mischief, solitude, joy, or 
pubo6. They " bum with a mystical love," and ever>' bud and 
Ittf is full of dreams. Their speech is in a tongue no one 
exactly knows, but which in certain moods comes home to 
f^try heart. They teach lessons of virtue and usefulness and 
inote to noble lives. A bouquet is a mute letter. At such 
tin»es when wc are wise in the rhythm of blossom and leaf, 
tHey tell wondrous secrets to those whom they love and who 
bvc them, but it is all in the dialect in which the wind and 
the sun and rain murmur to the secd-com in the dark ground 
of the coming hardest, or of the scythe to the grass. " Hush 
and heed not, for all things pass," or in which the daisy wishes 
lo ay, ■' I am the star of the day." 

Flowers have their own friendships and enmities. In gen- 



eral they love bees and butterflies but hate noxious parasitic 
insects, aijts, hens, and weeds, and dread large animals that 
eat or injure them. Some invite birds, protect other llowers, 
or are protected by trees, nestle together affectionately in beds. 
They are friends tn good people, and rebuke evil. Wild flowers 
are savages or unkempt street urchins friendly to animals, and 
perhaps to bad people. The homely are jealous of the pretty 
ones, and the small ones love the protection of the lai^c. 
Thistles, thorns, and poison, malodorous and shabby plants. 
are criminals in the flower world. The rose, e. g., is an enemy 
of the lilac, but loves the violet; the daisy is jealous ot the 
buttercup's golden calyx, and all llic flowers are jealous of Uie 
daisy's white frill. 

Many Bowers, too. in their appearance suggest birds or ani- 
mals. Some have all the human features; the pansy is a little 
face to almost evcrjonc, a sweet ami innocent baby face, a 
roguisli child, sly, cute, and mischievous, or even the face of a 
cross old woman. 

Again, the human attributes of flowers are no longer found 
in physical analysis, but they lK>th acquire and suggest mora! 
qualities. They teach or illustrate modesty, humility, meek- 
ness, resignation, content, cheer, gentleness, serenity, purity, 
perfection, candor, honesty, sensitiveness, el^ance, sweetness. 
piety, as they look up to heaven and pray. etc. Some arc 
bold, selfish, gaudy, bedizened, brazen, ill-tcnipered. unsocial, 
reserved, fierce, full of fire and of red blood, pert, jaunty, 
affected, coarse, old-fashioned. Others arc dainty, true, cour- 
teous, reserved, snobbish, coxcomb-like, stupid, clumsy, quick- 
tempered, frail, cross. Iiarbartc or ovcrrcfincd. greedy, and 
selfish. Some suggest golden-haired children, some fussy and 
prim old ladies in frills and flounces, some roistering young 
blades, some helpless. new-lK>rn babes, or soldiers, nuns, 
queens. The qualities assigned to different llowcrs, while 
varying considerably with different individuals, have much 
general similarity, but each has its dispositions and its own 
sphere of suggcstivcness. The lily, violet, and rose, for ex- 
ample, are especially replete with deep significance. In all 
tliese many ways, too. the appeal in adolescent years is notice- 
ably much fuller and far more suggestive in tlie case of girls 
than with boys. 


Two typical illustrations, must suffice. One is frmii a country 
^rl of thirteen, whu was passionately fond of pansics, and cacli bios- 
wra was given a name, generally that of a quality. Ilicy were love, 
dunty, humility, sweetness, envy, pride, goody, sweetie, dearie, 
(nrdicelc; each preserved its own individuality and name, and when 
one died the latter was never given to another individual, but a new 
nttne was sought. Occasionally playmates' names were used, from 
fancied resemblance, or names of characters in stories she had 
heard, and usually everything was suggested by resemblance. She 
vas very fond of keeping school and teaching or reproving each indi- 
vidual pansy. Sometimes &hc preached to them and exhorted thcni to 
l>c good, to avoid certain faults, to rise early, and be clean. Some- 
times they were sick and in need of special treatment, of water or shel- 
ter. If the nights were cool iliey must be protected, that they might 
sleep warmly. Occasionally romances and characteristics far more 
deftoite than those suggested by the names were gi\'cn. 

The other is the case of a young lady about twenty. For her the 
fOK is, e. g., an ideal madam craving perfection and claiming homage 
from all the rest ; the violet is a universal favorite, and for children, es- 
preially those who arc much alone and in the country, and like su many 
odicn, is very companionable. It is afTcctionate, huggable. " loves 
yea, and turns its face toward you," as if craving a kiss; is the homc- 
Buker, shading and hiding itself under and never without its leaves, 
ffOCD which it is almost indecent to separate it. The daisies are " faces 
boi with souls behind them " : geraniums arc " honest poor persons in 
Wight calico": pinks arc pretty hut soulless, all color; calla-lilies 
m tSe most stately, generally unmarried vestals; the liger-lily is " a 
pwstas of Africa, gaudy, am), like all lilies, stately and craving ad- 
nirslion with an almost [irucessional dignity "; the lilac is hardly hu- 
miD, strongly but somewhat vulgarly odorous; the buttercup is very 
bnntan, but virginal; the hyacinth is "hardly a true flower, hut ar- 
tificial, waxy, or snowy": the tidip is mainly color, as the honey- 
ttcUe is mainly perfume; the sweet pea is " besouted, but of a light 
'butterfly character"; the peony is "married, like the rose, but less 
rtfiaed and spiritual, more undeveloped, but vital and robust on a low 
Hue"; the forgctmc-not is "a dear, sweet, young couniry girl"; 
Ae noming-glory is " simply pretty, conceited perhaps, a grisette and 
•wreonsctous " : the dahlia is "married, but at heart an old maid"; 
>k chrysaothemum has "traveled, and has a foreign air, with a 
highly individualised and perhaps conceited soul "; the arbutus is *' an 
Indian girl, brought up to play shyly and hide in the forest " ; the snow- 
WlliiDot a flower, though a distant friend of the peony; the anemone 
a fiorbidly delicate, " too good for this earth," can hardly he picked 
TOOut being Iain out delicately: the aster has its own sonl. and is 
'lo (peaking terms with the daisy, hnt on a lower plane of life "; the 
"wftoweris a gaudy but ineffably conceited creature; the ladyVslip- 
pw is a " thoroughbred fairy"; the cactus is made of wax; Jack-in* 
^'^'Hpit.equisetfe, cattails, and goldenrods are often conceived as 




male flowers, while all the rest arc female. The poppy is " a brilliavit, 
dashing hrunettc"; the Kollyliock aspires to perfection, like ihc lily, 
and Uiough much more lowly, serves tike it in the temple; the mignon- 
ette is a simple child ; tlie verbenas make good children lo keep school 
with; the water-lily is another ''sacred princess, and its pads are 
praycr-mats "; the cowslip is the male of the buttercup; the thistle is a 
regal, married Irisliwoman; the gentian, a beatitiful aud ideal old 
maid; the yarrow, an " honest farmer in brown overalls," etc 

Why this strange fascination for flowers? Why does this 
ne^v rapport increase at adolescence when the immediate inter- 
est of sense logins to abate ? Flowers were not developed for 
man, who has had little agency in their fertilization. Tlieir 
beauty was meant to appeal to bees and other insects. Perhaps 
it is in part because woman first domesticated tliem. but so 
she did most animals, for which her feeling was very diflfercnt : 
and why her peculiar fondness that first led her to cultivate 
them? I believe it to be at root because of the fact, now more 
or less overlaid and lost to modem consciousness, that she 
feels, as also does man in a duller way. that flowers are the 
best expression nature affords of her adolescence, that from 
the efflorescence of dawning' iniberty to full maturity she is a 
(lower in bloom, and that till the petals fall they are the ex- 
ternal type of her virginity, and so they remain ever afterward 
the memento of her unfallen paradise. Poetrj" is often only 
a mature expression of the ideas and sentiments of childhood, 
which are vastly older and truer to nature than those of adults, 
and with this key we can better understand the pathos of the 
rose, which has been in all the historic period a favorite theme 
of poetry.' This sheds light on the frequency of flower names 
for girls common everywhere. The general term for woman 
in Malay is flower. 

For the genetic psychologist. Fechner*s Nanna. or. The Soul 
Life of Plants, lately republished, is of interest here." He as- 
sumed a psychic continuity throughout the universe. The 
spirit that besouled the universe was mostly under the threshold 
of consciousness, human minds being specialized apexes which 

* !)M on Hnlhology un this rab)ecl in Ron Ros&rnm Exhano PoeCarwn, by 
E. V, B. Alio, The Pntlii>i of the Ro»e. in J. A. Symontlt'i Essftys, vol. i, p. 187, 

* Nanuo, odor ^ber du Seclenleben der Pfluizen, von Gustrnv T. Fcchner 
Second cd., Leipzig, 1S99. 


cropped out, but it liad a larger though obscurer expression in 
plants and in planets. The former fiave an individual con- 
sciousness but only slightly unfolded, but this rests back on 
a higher one witliout losing its individuality by so doing. This 
parallelism is universal. The ClytJe metamorphosis was a 
myth of tlie special relations between Uie vegetable world and 
that of man. Nanna, Balder's widow, was a Gennan goddess 
and belter suggests this tlian Flora, whom he condemns to 

The plant world is far vaster and older than man or perhaps 
wen than animals, and vernacular names are of the highest 
antiquity and connect flowers with animals, stars, ancient gods, 
Christ, angels, historic persons, fairies, Naiads, elves. Puck, 
ikfiKRis, trolls, witches, medicine, magic, are wroutjlit into 
proverbs, festivals, calendars, and many miraculous plants 
have been invented as if there was once a full florigraphic Ian- 
page. "Could we penetrate to the original suggestive idea 
that called forth the name it would bring valuable information 
about the first openings of the human mind toward nature, 
and the merest dream of such a discovery inve.st5 with strange 
d*ann the words that could tell, if we could understand, so 
much of the forgotten infancy of the human race." ^ Flower 
lore shows still further what they have meant in the early 
»wld. These names and lore are also woman's work. No- 
where has she been more original or creative. The plant world 

' I', be nys in fdbGiuicc. we couM inv«ri tilings snd set plialt upon the ihrotie 
t' ibe anil anil we becume plants, we shuuld beindineO lu ask whil ihcsc rtEtlcBS 
•BnUpeds were tunning »buut (or and wlieilier lliey hod uiy vtc tnve to serve 
■p*i»iw life, We, the jiIaiii men, would continue, remain in digniftcd teal In our 
**0 (We, tod need do noihtng s-ave to upread out ooi roots and leaves in cird'Cr to 
'Vtweall divine fpiti as our due in iribuie. Men live to prepare caibunic Kcid for 
*■ koib, tnd die only thai iheir decaying bodies may furnish us iiicroKen. Meo 
^ M nllivuv u» in Howcr-poit and gardeDs. field aod foresi. and yet we coa- 
■Hlkn ia tht end. If wo wish to Mnd oqr bacierial army io their blood, we 
■■vniaate then, and although ihcy take n small part of our fruit and leaves, it it 
^ to iftreftd and (eriilixe our secdi. Insects lu for Dutnumbor men ai our leaves 
""Mectt. and yel even they Krve us as love mekiiengM* to bring the pollen o( 
ntUuioiDs to fertile coroUsk. 

'EajUsh Plant Names. Also Folklore o! Planii. by T. F. Thiiellon Dyer, 
™^ ti. Flowers and Klower-Lore, by Hildcric Friend, p. 353 el x<p. Also 
•iMlrf: Plant- I-ore, 1-cgends. and Lyrics, chaps, liii, xiv, and xv. Cockayue, 
' wrliiiim^ Wortcunntng, and Slarciaft, London, tSji. 



she has used as her oun private pass-key to the universe. In 
some such view as Fechner's her natural rehjjion would have 
its iiiteKectual expression, as if a garden were her primal hcmie, 
her paradise still revisited as in a dream, in the normal psy- 
choses of these years which slionld l)e forever sacred to senti- 
ment and intuition so instinct with the best that has been in 
Ihe past. There is something here wliich ages of past utilities 
can not account for, even if some of them do tend to be in- 
herited as esthetic effects. Perhaps beauty to us was all once 
religion or love. 

The pedagogic lessons of ihis are plain and unequivocal. A 
botany that begins by merely plucking, collecting, analysing, classify- 
ing, affixing Latin names that mean nothing in place of Ihusc that 
mc.111 everything, desiccating in herbaria, makes havoc with all this, 
and if economic and edible plants are prcfcrrt-d. the soul is starved. 
A technical term is at first n weed, which is defined as a plant out of 
place. Taxonomy has its im|H>riant function, but here it is not even a 
necessary evil. The fact that so many young and old maidens wear out 
a Gray's Botany or other te.xt-lxjok. and learn to give uncouth names to 
all wayside plants, is a pathetic illusiraiiou of woman's bubscrvicncy to 
authority nr to man-made fashion in making something of a stone when 
her soul cried out for bread. I have collected twenty-one poeras on 
the daisy, more than h-ilf of thcni written liy women, and not one 
taught a new fact or tenn, but all talk directly to the heart. If Latin 
were accepted as the inexorable mind-breaking condition, and the 
whole circa 150.000 plant species known, It wouUI not be botany but 
a rank crop of Latin tares, and woidd put the child's soul, which is 
iiomially nearer die Horal kingdom than the adult's, farther away, 
while what lore survived would be like flowers springing from a grave 
till "nothing can bring back the hour of splendor of the grass or 
glory in the flower." It is like the study of the grammar and diction- 
ary by themselves. We must recogjiizc lire natural, youthful senti- 
ments as the persistence of what was once and long man's highest 
philosophy. Rightly taught, iio science e<|ua]s botany in educational 
influence and bcnefic. and wrongly taught nothing so dries up the 
spontaneous springs of interest. 

1 can not detail here but only briefly indicate the method of na- 
ture. After the folk-lore stage, scientific study at the high school 
should begin with fertilization, first revealed by Sprengel and Dar- 
win, with the relations nf blnssoms In insect life, and thus the whole 
philosophy of sex taught in the delicate far-off way of the field. Then 
^hou]ll conic the relations of pl.ints to men. the vine, .sugar, cotton, 
flax, fruit, and cereals, with something of their domestication. A 
third human factor, never to be lost sight of, should be the biographic 
clement in the history of botany, from the Hcrbalisis and doctrine of 


21 I 

lignalurcA on to I-innscus and down lo the present lime. Something of 
m)tbic plants, also of ptsls, diseases, struggle for existence, and com- 
mercial and industrial botany, should ilIso be taught. Drawing should 
be gfreally reduced : much taught without the presence of specimens, 
and laboratory work minimized, save a few experiments on move- 
ntrnts. tropisnis and plant physiology. Tlie lexl-hooks of Hodge, Bcs- 
sc)-. Grant Allen. Macduugal, Bailey, and the Ccrnell leaflets, and 
especially Hugh MacmiUan. are all helpful.* 

XI. Children's feeling for trees is another of the indis- 
putable ami wcll-inarketl psychogenelic phciiumena, which have 
hitherto remained utterly inexplicable. Our returns show that 
children instinctively and without teaching ascribe emotion, 
sense, intelligence, morality to trees. They have arms and 
l«gs; sap is their blood or tears; leaves are their dress, which 
they feci ashamed to lose: their bark is skin; they are per- 
stwiified; fall in love with each other;arc lonesome if trees near 
ihem arc felled ; make shade, if they are kind, just for the chil- 
dren; like to have them around; spread out their arms in bene- 
diction or shelter; watch over the house; miss the children and 
perhaps weep for loiiesomeiiess if they do not play round them: 
are fast friends of the birds, who perhaps sing to put the leaves 
to sleep, and are welcomed back in the spring; trees feel hon- 
ored and joyous if birds build their nests in them; hold out 
their hands when they are passing to invite them to alight. 
Tfees talk to each other and understantl the thoughts and lan- 
pagc. at least of the trees of the same species, though oftener 
of all kinds. They sometimes laugh loudly ; sway their 
branches as if to shake hands; say good-night. The nistling 
of their leaves is whispering of or to the fairies, who live in 
Ihcm; *' the wind blowing through branches is leaves singing 

*1ltUll«r (The Deeper Tewchings o( PUiH Life; New York, i90a> would 
RMtTC this deep BnceMral interest lo its nghtfnC place in liie «iiil. He even uys 
■M is Sovere we we humnn nature leflected in a way we hid Iom sight of. In 
ll*ni]|ledou for the iiourishmcni uf ihe yuung embrfu. we have ihe oimbgae uf 
tiv MMUmt'^ breast. We see nolure ndurniiiK her bridal liowcr in the spfiiiK : our 
■**> alfifhoevs in the spreaHing ol the flnt leaves uf the ditiii)- round hi roots close 
h ihe «anh tliKt no other Buy grow liesidc ti. In the dri»l xpalhr of the daffodil 
^tkleiMfi oC death, while its hlnssom, ihc fir«l in «pniig, means mnriality. The 
••ihft sbelaled primrose, each cup the home of an elf. i« the kry flower unlock- 
•(ibe Ufigdoin o( heaven in the spring, throtigh the gaien of which the flowers 
iMt; and tht bluebell, thf; lait in ihc foil, i> a ctirlew rang lijr the tremblins 
^4 «( to old tpaQ to bring at home, etc 


their bahies to sleep : trees of the same kind like to be planted 
near each other, for if an elm is planted near a maple, it would 
be like putting an American girl with a little Dutch girl;" but 
trees can understand the children, and the children the trees. 
A child of six. walking in the woods, looked up and said, " Oh ( 
I am only going a little way," because the leaves asked her. 
To one of ten, if the wind blew mournfully, the leaves said, 
" I am sad; " if it blew hard, " I am mad." To a boy of ten, 
trees get angry at the wind and scream, scold, and slap it. To 
one of eleven years, God comes into the trees at times when 
the clouds touch their tops. The spirit of trees goes to heaven. 
They sing to moon and stars. Trees are very often hugged, 
greeted after a long absence, thanked for giving shade. Trees 
that cast no shadow are selfish ; crooked trees, those that bear 
no fruit, or are bitter, poisonous, prickly, malodorous, are bad. 
Children are pained and sometimes exasperated at the cruelty 
of trimming trees. Dense forests soothe, hush, and awe the 
soul and feel " like church." 

I maintain that the e.\perience of the diild and its personal 
relations can not explain these phenomena and that we must 
here again have recourse to the pliyletic history of the soul. 
Perhaps no cult has been so wide-spread and persistent as that 
of sacred trees, and few throw such light on the dark ways 
of primitive and childish thought. Nearly every early race 
has its sacred trees or groves; often altars are set up beneath 
them and sacrifices are made: burials are among their roots or 
in Ihcir branches : hbations are poured upon iheni so that often 
they grow to great size, because especially nourished. Trees 
arc planted above graves, and the soul of the dead man or the 
matter of the corpse have some kind of reincarnation in the 
life of the tree. They are plnnted at birth and there is a close 
rapport lietwccn the life or fortunes of the tree and that of the 
man. Their juice is often interpreted as blood; prayers are 
said to them, if they are to be cut; gifts are hung on them; 
their voice is often heard. Some think that the first man grew 
from trees. The Druids worshiped all trees, but thought the 
mistletoe especially sacred. Spirits perch or live in their 
branches; God may be incarnate in trees or make a theophany 
in some burning bush. Trees are anointed, clothed, fumigated ; 
have curative properties; are Dodona oracles; have temples 


buflt in their honor; are sacred lo deities — the oak to Jove, 
laurel to Apollo, fig to Buddha. The evergreens teach immor- 
tality, or the fruit of others gives it. The glorified totemic 
world-trees — Yggdrasil, the Mohammedan TooIm, the Persian 
Haoma. arc of immense proportions ; their roots hnid the earth 
tc^^er, are watered by mystic rivers ; their hranches bear the 
stars as fruit, souls come down them at birth, and to climb 
them is the way to heaven. God is sometimes tree-shaped, and 
tree was the Acadian idJograph of God. This cult survives in 
the Christmas-tree and May-day festivals. The fruit of the 
tree of knowledge gives wisdom and inspiration, as that of life 
does immortality.* 

If all this established body of data must be invoked and 
oODceded to have a more or less prima facie explanatory power 
for the phenomena of childhood, I think we must l^wldly take 
the further momentous stqj of postulating that Ixjth the child- 
ish and the ethnic phenomena, however related, need ulterior 

'Tlic naiTcnetrcc luu be«D ofwn regarded as the axle-tree of tbe eortli. It 
fUdt llic gods their lonuL li is so high thai ii casts a shadcrw od die moon. Cf 
il ike great uick tliat churns tbe ocean is made. VnK^ruII is ilie tree of life and 
Ai}«dgiiKnt-*eai of the k*^'- ^ myiholoKical sucker which sometimes Ims be- 
on ■ ndsMhotc of it if lh« beui-*talk legend, of a ladder reuchioK from lieuven to 
ank Sonetimes these mysiic treei appear Ruddonly and unexpectedly. Thfl 
Wtet's pole was oriijinalEy a hanuui ucrifiice pud grasped by tbe victim, and later 
olgnd with red paini inRlcad of hlood ; ihic, the May-pol*. and the mystic reed, are 
dBtadiaiioDS of ihc world-tree in wliote branches Otirls's body is suspended be- 
l>ai kearen and earth. Sacred grinds, iree», ami even shrubs, have been nt 
^vtlfttt til* rowan tree, the gaous (hum, the mistletoe. O'Keill (Xigbi of th« 
Gt4, ToL i, p. 339) thinks the all-embracing idea of the univcrM-tree ii illos- 
HMln Ihi two kandred or mvie chcmiijali made from coal tar. all cxtratied troo 
tkttwdl B past lime by trees, and raiigini; frum Berkeley's tar water lo Ike anittn 
ijn, bam the strong actdt to saccliariue, the sweele&i lliini; known. Chri»tmas- 
liM, ike myths of Daphne, the Druid relij^ions, the Golden Huui;h, all belong 
kn, a* do the Kabeiiul, the Dioscures, Corybantes, Curetes, Dociyle^t, Tel- 
dnci, and the Arvaliaa trees. 

Trte wonbip must have been polyRenons. It prevailed En Assyria, Greece, Po- 
1*b1. France, Persia, and is now found in Sahara and Central Africa. Tacitus 
dncribed ucred groves in Owrmany. On the Guinea coast nearly every vUlajte 
■* iti iBCivd groTc. Tree worshipcrK arc abundant among Filipings. They 
■K«fm hung with ornaments and offerings In Mexico useful trees and even 
Miu H« worshiped. The I.apps have sacred trees, sometimes regarded as goda 
■Vttidns, tom«timet at ladders. — (The Origio of Civilixation, by Sir John Lub, 
^, London. 1870, p. ti)t fiiff) 

Trco ban strongly marked indiriduaJ, and perhaps still more accentuated 


explanation, and suggest that we must here invoke the hy- 
pothesis of arboreal life in man's remote progenitors.* The 
argument may be summarized as follows : 

The earth waa formerly more covered with forests than at pres- 
ent, am! life for higher anthropoids nearest man in bodily structure 
was for ail unknown but no doubl very prolonged period arboreal. 
This stage, at any rate, protracted enough to modify the body 
profoundly to fit the requirements of tree life. The early primates 
and primitive man were frugiferous. Tree life lifted the fore-quarters 
of quadrupedal life into the eri-ct poi^iltnn; dilTereiUiated the fore and 
hind le^s, and especially the fore and hind feet; elevated the head 
and balanced it upun the spinal column ; opened the hip- joint : brought 
the shoulder-blades back into nearly ilie same plane instead of their 
former parallel position; gave the hand and arm its power of inner 
rotation instead of the palm facing backward; created the human 
hand, in ihe powers of which Huxley says man is as much ditferen- 
tiated from the higher apes as he is in intellect; greatly increased the 
range of motion in the arm and brought handwork under the control 
of the mind and inlu the focus of llic eye in what I have elsewhere 
called its primary position;' developed the paltuaris muscle; gave 
direction to the hairs on the body, still seen in the human embryo; 
lengthened the foot, still seen in the negro; creased its sole, as still 
appears in infants; shaped and gave power to the great toe in ways 
it still shows; flcvchipcd the rcmnrkublc clinging power of the fore- 
arm, also shown in Robinson's study of human infants a few days 
old, which »t llirec weeks of age can cling and grasp as adults can 
not.' In all these respects savage peuple show closer correlation with 
simian structure than civilized races. ITie female pelvis; the small 
and large toes; the scapula index; the humeral torsion; the spinal 

ipeciiic dinractcr^ The nppte-tree U kindly sn*) sheltering; the willow. Uthe ud 
gfaceful (or mourning ; the auk, uronu aiid heroic ; the cedur, socrcil : the elm, the 
hickory, chefttniii, Wrch, lieech. upen, spruce. ma|^oliii. Iicmluck. loca»l. Iindca, 
■Tuiii>Kany, ^ycumore, fir, rtisewitoii. almoni], tnnyan, ebony, liully, liamboo, valalpa, 
yew, are all type« ami symbols of ihoughi or illiitcratiooi of character about 
which myth, fnnry, childish Kcniirnvnc, and ailult reminiscence t have span a muii- 
fold Icxture ot a««c>ciaiion. Kwn ihr rlespi^d gariirn vef;ernh!ef (potato, cat>> 
baRT. bean, rmion. pea, radish, com, bretv turnip, carrot, pumpkin. «(ua(h, yun, 
rhubarb, wmrrmelnn, pepper, dtron, nranpc, peinui, etc ) have often pt^xhic qtuli- 
tiet and are iitcil at inclaphpTs or desoripliont of huinan iraito and qualities. 

' l>t. (^uani7, who woikei.1 under my direction and with darn which t had col- 
lected lo this end, ha.» written a Hitrnificant article I" whkh the reader it cefert»d. 
nendro-Piychoaci. Am, Jotir. of Psy., July, iSjjS. vol, ix, pp. 44[^Jo6. Alto 
PHilpot: The Sacred Tree. LoDdtiii, 1897. M&nnhardt ; Ilaurnktillttt, 2 »oU,. 
Berlin. jSj^-'fj, pp. 6,t6 and 359. 

* Note* on the Stody o( Infant*, Ped. Sem., June, l8qi, vol, 1, p. ija 

' See The Nineteenth Centtiry, Novemlwr, iftgi. Darwinism in the Niitsery. 



om-ature; relative length of arms; ihe ahsence o( calves of the tegs, 
which were developed after walking on the earth was an established 
habit ; the form of the no&e : the size of the braiti ; most of the cerebral 
indices; the early closing- of the sutures; the development and opposi- 
tion of the thumb — in all these respects, as we ro down the scale of 
civilization, we approxininte the arboreal form of life. 

Passing from ihe body to the soul ts like passing from hard parts, 
which paleontology conserves, to the soft parts, which shape them 
bst arc not preserved, so that difficulties arc great and we must be 
content with less conclusive evidence. No one familiar with the facts 
now doubts that man has inherited nearly every organ and tissue in 
hit body from lower forms of life, aud that there are many rudiracn- 
lary organs (Wieilcrsheim thinks over a hundred) of no use in the 
hanian stage — mere pensioners, relics, like silent letters in spelling, 
bw ! think we do not dishonor the soul ^y making it no less frfiifhted 
with mementoes of earlier stages of development than the body. We 
met summarily break from the arbitrary, vicious, and persistent in- 
flncnce of Descartcs's automaton thi-nry, and reven to a broader 
ind more Aristotelian conception of the sotil, which conceives it as 
BXire nearly coincident with life and the evolutionary push upward. 
Fonction is as important, persistent, and as specifically characteristic 
u stracture. It is more variable, and perhaps, when established, is 
no less slible. Instincts arc as plastic to the environment, and in 
naa. since evolution focused on the brain^ still more so. The psychic 
mtifcs in man, which are suggestive of former arboreal life, arc the 
following : 

1. As I have elsewhere shown,' the fear perhaps strongest and 
nmsi widely diffused in man is that of thunder and lightning, a fear 
oat of all proportion to the danger, as shown by statistics of those 
tinick by lightning, and with nothing in man's present condition to 
laoBut (or its instinctive iirength. Bui in tropical regions tree life is 
{■mictilarly exposed to lightning, for a tree is a better conductor than 
nr, and its tips attract. If then we assume many generations of life 
intre**, and that this danger has left its mark and can he iransmit- 
Ifd, ihc intensity and difTusion of this fear and awe is to some extent 

2. Next in the catalogue of fears com<?s that of reptiles, and es- 
pKully serpents. No creatures are objects of such instinctive horror 
to apes as snakes, as the literature welt shows. Now, tree-dwellers 
•UK ready immunity or escape from most animals that prey upon 
•!*« except serpents, still the chief enemies of monkeys, which can 
Wow them into the trees and prey upon their young. Although their 
PfOfiKsive movements are slow, their strike or dash is sudden, and 
<•«» lie in wait in tree-tops. Hence even in Ireland, where for gen- 
niiont there hive been no snaJces, this fear ia strong, and again out 

' A Study of Fmt*. Am. Jonr. of Pijr., Jutiujy, 1897, vol viii, p. 301. 



o£ ail proportion to danger in mrxlcrn life- To be sure, serpenln are 
dangerous on the groimd, anc] in some lands their venom destroys 
hundreds of lives yearly, so that we must be cautious in ascribing too 
much weight to the inference here. 

3. Another prevalent fear is of high mnds, even in districts where 
they arc rare. Against these, cave-dwellers would be more or lesi 
protected, and to tumadocs which destroyed trees, wood-dwellers 
would be especially exposed. Yet life in trees would be still more sus- 
ceptible to air currcnt-s and to storms of all kinds. The depth of thp 
impression weather has made is still seen in its constant recurrence 
as a topic of conversation, even now when we arc so protected by 
clothing and houses. But life in trees would be most of all exposed, 
and would thus intensify itie fear with the danger. 

4. Closely connected with this 15 the habit of inducing steep in in- 
fants by rocking. Sleep is reversionary, Khylhm stamps the organ- 
ism. Sailors on landing must readjust their gait; soldiers keep on 
walking in sleep: children ami idiots sway, and wc count ur beat ur pat 
to induce sleep, and even ."iing " Rock-a-by baby in the trcc-top." For 
creatures wonted through many generations to tree life, swaying 
would be a natural accompaniinenl 10 sleep, and rhythm, the mother 
of poetry and music that rules the soul in love, war, religion, would 
be deeply ingrained. 

5. Agoraphobia is sometimes a very marked psychosis, which 
prompts its victims to walk near houses or shelter, and gives them a 
horror of city squares or open spaces, exposure of which ihcy seek to 
avoid. In a forest-clad world, and especially for trcc-dwcllers, dan- 
ger was directly as distance from this shelter, and wc can imagine 
that many generations were required before man could really feci at 
home in cleared open spaces, which brought new dangers to locomo- 
tion, for which arboreal habits are ill adapted. Thus, in types of ar- 
rest or degeneration, wc hark back to far prehistoric conditions. 

6. Again, tree life rccjuircs its own peculiar kind of locomotion. 
It developed longer than any other after life had emerged from the 
primeval sea and perhaps at a greater distance from or above i(. 
Some apes do not even need to drink, but find fluid enough in foods. 
Most vcrlcbralcs, even mammals, especially those living in warm cli- 
inales, can swim, and many lave to; but apes have a cat-like horror of 
water, and it has been stated that some species can not swim. Human 
infants, too, as I have elsewhere shown, have an untaught horror of 
water,' and man must learn to swim. The movements and organs de- 
veloped by life among branches seem especially incommensurate with 
swimming movements, although it must be admitted that there would 
be less force in this evidence taken by itself. 

7. Fear of falling is another instinctive horror of children, whose 
individual experience has not justified it. 'lliis danger, and the per- 
sistent clinging to ctoches, beard, etc., may be a reverberation from a 



life where falling was an incessant danger. On this ^oup of cor- 
relations considerable stress may be laid. 

ft. Despite this fear, children have a strange propensity to climb. 
Before they can walk they often have an " insane desire to climb up- 
stairs." The modes of creeping and of assuming the erect position 
have many suggestions of climbing.' Yet boys often perform prod- 
igies in this re-spcct, and often with safety akin to that of somnani- 
buli»ti. To mount a high tree even without the stimulus of nuts or 
^{fs, perhaps to construct a tree platform tike the ourang. and. as in 
laany cases in our returns, to find places where they can readily pass 
bom tree to tree hy boughs, even to pass the night in tree houses, 
with ladders drawn up for mimic safety, is often a passion. Man has 
u instinctive pleasure to get up high and look down and afar. 

9. Among the chief psychic analogies, we must place the extreme 
imitativcncss which is so characteristic of the lowest savages and 
■till more so of monkeys, the very verb to ape indicating where this 
liabit, which may become a mania, is best developed. Motor imita- 
lions in children culminate early, before inhibitory powers arc devel- 
oped. In no forms of life is the impulse to mimic, which has been 
lildy so well explored by psychologists, so highly developed as in the 
tpes aitd in men. It is one of the bases of gregariousncss, and brings 
ape and man into singular rapport. So similar are their structures 
tlui the movements of each are significant to the other, and to see 
tUldren watch and mimic apes suggests deep sense of kinship. 

10. There arc other miscellaneous and merely suggestive intima- 
tioDB pointing to the same conclusion seen in some forms of playing 
hide and seek; some resemblances between the postures of children in 
deep and those of the ourang and chimpaneec; several automatisms, 
o&ro ancestral, thai suggest ape life. Wild or feralized children and 
also idiots often develop ape-like qualities. They often go on all-fours, 
»ft expert climbers, and assume, as savages often do in their dances, 
taay strikingly ape-like attitudes and contortions, while often Ihcir 
(liysical features — jaw, teeth, length of arm, etc. — point in the same 

These facts and inferences, while they can not individuaUy or even 
wOectivcly be said to amount to demonstration, erect, in my judg- 
meni. a strong probability in favor of the theory which I am urging; 
11 uiy rate, they give a new genetic interest to the esthetic rapport of 
Ae human soul with trees, and make them an object of such unique 
iBt to nature lovers. 

Now the significant fact is that most of both the diildish 
inimisms and also of these special dendropsychoses fall away 
or end completely at puberty, so that there is a striking con- 

'Cfccping tad Wolktag, by A. W. Trenieo. Am. Jour, of Psy., October, 
I^Dtt, «ol. lii, pp. 1-57. 



trast between the effect of this epoch upon the feelings for 
trees and those for flowers. Tlic psychic soil becomes poor and 
thin for the grosser fancies of trees tliat bear golden fruit. 
precious stones, birds and babies, the mclaniorphoses into god- 
desses, men and maidens, the crass analysis of leaves as hairs 
or clapping hands, roots as feet, etc., before or during the 
earliest school years, and later prcpubesccnt years are autumnal 
for this deciduous psychic foliage, Here again the early his- 
tory of the race aflfords a clue. Frugivorous, primitive, trop- 
ical man often subsisted largely upon tree fruit, the list of 
which from veritable trees of life included many. He plucked 
and ate through the entire year. So, too, on arid plains a tree 
was precious from its associations with water, shade, shelter, 
and rest. All this, to say nothing of tree-dwelling, would 
favor the various tree cults or even worship which higher 
human religions have condemned, as did so often the ancient 

With the northern migrations those who had once dwelt in 
tlie tropics or jungle found tree fruit less abundant and edible, 
shade (ess desired and lietter protection than branches and 
boughs needed, so that their psychic role declined. Druidism 
was perhaps a survival or attempted restoration of a cherished 
past, the heart of which had perished. Again, in the north, 
trees acquired a new utility that was as inconsistent with re- 
spect for thera as was the use of mummies as fuel with the old 
Egyptian reverence for corpses, as was the function of the 
butcher in the shambles with the Hindu veneration for animal 
life, or of the perfume manufacturer with sentimental love for 
his acreage of roses and violets. Not living, but slaughtered 
trees for fire-wood and dwellings are now needful. Agriailture, 
too, makes war upon the forest to clear land for crops. These 
kings of the vegetable as man is of the animal world suffer dis- 
enchantment, like currant once wild and pretty in a kitchen 
garden, and toteniism is incompatible with extermination of its 
species. Somewhere we must perhaps postulate a wood age 
like that of stone, iron, and bronze, but beginning earlier with 
the control of fire and continuing after metals and the ore. 
Once more the century life of a tree is harder to oversee than 
the annual life of plants and flowers, so that it requires a long 
period of mental and moral development to attain the same 

standpoint of control and cultivation, and modern forestry is 
only now fully domesticating trees. Later esthetic interest in 
them is less in brilliancy of blossom, color, and perfume, and 
more purely in form. 

Thus modern youth is coming out of the forest and away 
from its influence. Most of its ancestral effects upon his soul 
ire becoming more rudimentary, and there is much in his en- 
rironment that, if it does not actually score away early den- 
dritic influence, at least tends to indifference. But while this 
is the general law it is not without limitation and important 
exceptions. He may become more susceptible to the literature 
ol antiquity, that fancied woodland scenes with fauns and 
dr>-ads, tropes of sap or blood, milk, wine, the evergreens or 
trees of life, and the symbolism of oak, aspen, palm, California 
big trees, cypress, lotus, banyan, and many others wliicli he has, 
tad perhaps more that he has never, seen. Class and historic 
trees, those owned or set out, can acquire much zesL The grand 
Births of celestial or universe trees and their mazes of allegory, 
ai well as family trees and pedigrees, may impress and even 
instruct him. But like .^^lxlr Day, poetic anthologies of the 
" Woodman-spare-that-tree " order, and even the tree raptures 
o( the modem field naturalist, or the wisdom of tree botany, are 
HkHy to be in too large measure adult-made or school-bred 
artifacts that strike no deep root in the soul. Very vital to him, 
Iwwever, arc the influences of the forest in solitude. In its 
rtilhiess and awe his thoughts are lifted upward, his soul ex- 
pands, awe. reverence, expectation, poise, make it the very 
temple of the natural religion of the heart. The lessons of life 
utd death, growth, age, and decay come home. Anything 
might appear or happen to his quickened fancy. He thinks 
inevitably of God, love, destiny, and his future. The wood 
TOices will bring out atavistic echoes which put him into un- 
witting communion with his remote forebears and e\-oke latent 
niythopeic tendencies otherwise mute. H he is ever to have a 
"•use. it is here she may first appear to him. For many it is 
Prtaps a little too solemn and tame, but every youth should 
l« exposed to these sylvan influences in spring, fall, summer- 
•Kle.and winter, for thus all that is best in his nature will ripen 
wd gain ascendency. Thus adolescence can never do all its 
*Ofk without an occasional day alone in a city of trees. 



XII. Some think the best approach to ps>xhology is the 
study of the instincts and life history of animals. However 
this he, this is the natural Iwginning of zoology, which has 
hitherto been so devoted to the study of anatomical form and 
growth-stages tliat its representatives have grown not only 
incampelcnt or unwilling to start aright, but have lost the peda- 
gogic sense of how to do so. To the young child, there is no 
gap between his soul and that of animals. They feel, think, 
act. much as he does. They love, hate, fear, leani, sleep, make 
toilets, sympathize, and have nearly all the basal psychic qual- 
ities that the child has. Indeed, we might almost define the 
animal world as consisting of human qualities broken up and 
widely scattered throughout nature and as having their highest 
utility in teaching psychology to the young by a true peda- 
gogical melho<l. The pig. e. g., to one who knows its habits 
and therefore what piggish means, is a symbol not only of 
impetuous greed in eating and gross selfishness, but also of 
filth and untidiness, which gives the child a better conception 
and a truer reaction to all that these qualities mean in the world 
of man. To say of a woman that she is a butterfly nr a pea- 
cock, describes traits which it would take a long time to ex- 
plain to one who was not familiar with these forms of animal 
life. In the same way the goose, the fox. the eel, the IJon, 
bulls and bears, the eagle, dove, jay, cuckoo, hawk, pelican, 
crow, serpent, gazelle, cormorant, badger, wolf, tiger, ele- 
phant, alligator, fish, the frog, tadpole, chrysalis and its meta- 
morphoses, the bee. ant, wasp, the sloth, insects, the ape, hiber- 
nation, migration, nest-buiIding, and scores more, are psycho- 
lagical categories or qualities embodied and exaggerated so 
that we see them writ large and taught object-lesson wise, to 
those who live at a stage when character is being molded and 
influenced pro or con in each of these directions. More tlian 
one thousand editions of Reynard the Fox are enumerated and 
Its lessons entered into all the great discussions of centuries, for 
it is perhaps the best of all the /Esop class in which the animal 
fablcatix were a language of man's moral nature. Wc might 
add a long list of more or less mythic animals, the leviathan. 
phenix, dragons, centaurs, or popular misconceptions of animal 
traits, while children's fancy in creating impossible new ani- 
mals is still almost as fecund as Nature herself. Therefore, we 



plead for menageries, for collections of animals in every public 
park, pets, familiarity with stables, for school museums of 
stuffetl specimens, and for the flora and fauna of the neighbor- 
hood in every schoolhouse, to say nothing of instruction in 
every school concerning insects, birds, and antmals which are 
noxious and those which are helpful to vegetation, fruit, and, 
ag;riculture generally. The story of the gipsy-moth, the phyl- 
loxera, the caterpillar, the tobacco- worm, the life history and 
liabits of other parasites in the bark or on the leaf, in seed or 
palp, the marvelous habits of the botfly, the angle-worm, 
through whose bofly all our vegetable mold has so often 
passed, the common house fly with its interesting stoPr". the 
f:n)T), the wire-worm, moth and bat, the food fishes, the peach- 
tree borer, the apple aphis, the tent makers, and many other fas- 
dnaling living creatures which have been so carefully studied 
of late in our agricultural colleges, all these have a moral as 
Mil as a scientific interest to childhood and constitute a kind 
of knowledge wliicli has an educational, to say nothing of an 
ttooomic, value, and which must be ranked as one of the very 

Many animals excel man in certain qualities of sensation, 
instinct and physical development, so that even the adult is 
often looking up and sttidying higher (|ualities than his own in 
ioming of animals and their ways. They are not only our 
older brothers, but fit in some respects to be our teachers. 
Man's supremacy in the world consists in the fact that the 
qualities in which he excels animals are more numerous than 
tfcose in which he is inferior to them, and that certain of these 
tjiaUties are developed in him to a high and perhaps even ex- 
ttsave degree. The unfoldment of these, however, comes late 
ii! his own development, and those which most distinguish 
him from animals arc added last, so that arrest in the critical 
Iwer stages of adolescent development condemns him to pass 
trough life deficient in just those traits which arc most char- 
iaetinically human. 

Children thus in their incomplete stage of development are 
iKarer the animals in some respects than they are to adults, 
and there is in this direction a rich but undiscovered silo of 
ftlucational possibilities which heredity has storetl up like the 
aol-mcasurcs, which when explored and uliJIzed to its full 




extent will reveal pedagogic possibilities now undreamed of. 
The domestication of the two or three hundred animal species, 
as history shows, has largely been the product of this sym- 
pathy with the brute mind and life, and if it be true, as is 
claimed, lliat most of all these animals have bcai tamed by 
woman, this is only another illustration of the fact that her 
life and mind are more generic than tliat of man. Even tlie 
children's instinctive fears of animals, insects, etc., that are 
often harmless, show not only liow okl and close the relation 
between man and beast has been in the past, despite the great 
evolutionary chasm caused by the loss of whole series of miss- 
ing links, hut supply (he other chief ingredient of interest 
which is most intense where fear and the love which casts it 
out are battling for supremacy, for, as I have elsewhere shown, 
our souls in infancy are scarred with ancient fears as of big 
eyes, teeth, fur."^ This stratum is one of the very riclicst layers 
in paleopsychic development, and Its outcrops in the many 
varied zoolatries of savage life, which show its strength, con- 
stitute one of the most interesting illustrations of the way in 
which the stages of a child's development repeat those through 
which the race has passed. 

All this may be concisely illustrated by studies of the child's 
relations to the two commonest household pets. Brehm says. 
*' We can not conceive .savage man without the dog," and 
Longkanel adds. "The dog is a part of man himself." ' It 
was an important factor in helping him to supremacy. Some 
northern races would now cease to exist without it. as the 
prairie Indians vanished with the buffalo. It is most com- 
pletely domesticated and has entered most deeply and sympa- 
thetically into man's psychic life. It has been a specialty in 
art, for Landseer has been called the " Shakespeare of dogs," 
and the workl would be poorer without the story of Gelert and 
the famous dogs of literature and history from Homer's Argus 
down. It was already domesticatefl in paleolithic days. D(^ 
have been close companions of great men. and for nearly a 
quarter of a century a French society has conferred a colleur 
d'honneur upon dogs for acts of signal merit. .Mthough do- 

' See my Fears, sees. lii-xv, incl. 
■ Quoted [rotn Rucke. 


mesticatinn probably early interfered with dog tntcmism, their 
superiority to man in the power of scent, orientation, speed, 
their patience with children, companionship in play antl bunt- 
ing, dulness among races that use them chiefly for food, their 
hardiness, diseases, tricks, etc., all suggest improvement by 
as!VKiation with man and participation tn the advantages of 
civilization. WTiile some writers fear or rebuke too much sen- 
timent about or interest in them, others think far more miglit 
be done in communicating with and training them than has 
even yet been dreamed of. 

Their attention to small children is often almost un- 
bounded and they are their companions in every aspect of their 
life, share their food and perhaps their bed, are their play- 
(dlows, are talked to and partake of all their confidences, arc 
taught their lessons, are thought to understand all, are loved 
because of their smooth, soft, and shaggy' coats, color, h'vcly 
actions, and are often treated with full recognition of the qual- 
ities in which they excel man. Children are credulous and un- 
critical about the most remarkable dog stones, arc anthropo- 
morphic and chummy. As Mr. Buckc shows, on the basis of 
J.8o4 returns, at or soon after puberty important characteristic 
changes of attitude toward the dog occur. Boys' interest in 
Hunting and coursing qualities rises sharply, and the hound is 
invested with and reflects a new interest and takes him afield. 
flighting qualities are much more appreciated, dog 6ghts more 
ilsorbing and often cultivated not only instinctively on occa- 
sicos, but promoted and prepared for, while the bulltlog- be- 
oomcs a hero and an object-lesson, and perhaps an inspircr of 
fJiick, courage, gamencss. perseverance, and sometimes has a 
narked influence on the boy's life and disposition for a time. 
Again, there is a new interest In the dog's intelligence, aitd the 
icy not only values but teaches tricks and boasts of the mental 
fpialities and sagacious acts of Iiis pet. This is illustrated by 
(hcdownward curve. There is also a new interest in breeds and 
pedigrees. Tlie quality of different species is discussed with 
pnxliologic acumen, and points about eyes, mouth, tcetli, tail, 
and Miape generally, and also the money value of favorites are 
foci of attention. While the superstitions of childhood are out- 
^Txwn. creduhty about general intelligence is for some lime 
anabated. Finally, sexual differences are sharply developed. 



girls preferring St. Bernards, for their size, strength, protec- 
tion, and the sense of dependence they foster, as well as for the 
romance that attaches lo them, greyhounds for their elegance, 
or poodles for their be.iuty. and httlc dogs generally, and being 
more prone to decorate witli embroidered blankets, orna- 
mental collars, ribbons, and more sensitive to any hardship and 
cruelty they suffer. They are more intcreste<l in face and 
feature than in general form, in cleanliness, bath, toilets, and 
sometimes in dog hospitals, regimen, hygiene, and diet, teach- 
ing them to eal ice-cream and confectionery, etc. Not one in all 
Buckets returns shows interest in the dog's anatomy by a single 
mention. For youth, they still have almost every psychic qual- 
it}' of man, but tlieir limitations and arrest or inferiority arc 
also more clearly recognized. In view of all. Bucke argues that 
every child and youth should have a dog for the moral and 
psychological education they would bring their masters. In 
a well-known western summer school every boy is given a 
horse, and the work of the season consists chiefly in caring for, 
training, using, and studying the horse; so the dog teaches 
loyalty, reverence, and fidelity, which illustrate the vet)* 
ideal of man's relation to God, as well as patience, sympathy, 
good-will, companionship, occupation tliat keeps from mis- 
chief, and the sense of responsibility that ownership can teach. 
To this end also the dog should be studied more systematically 
and scientifically. Tn respect to this animal the average child 
should repeat somewliat more fully the history of the race. 

The cat represents the great family of Felidx, the larger 
members of which have long been very dangerous to man. 
Morbid fears and phobias of cats by liotli children and adults, 
of its eyes in the dark, of exceptional acts, sizes, colors, and 
the many uncanny superstitions and proverbs about them and 
their association with witchcraft suggest both that man's old 
fear of this genus has not subsided and also that the cat is not 
yet fully domesticated. In a careful statistical study Mr. C. 
E. Hrowne ' shows that most cats get lost, run away, or easily 
relapse toward the feral state, and that the cat in many house- 
holds is found or rescued by the still active domesticating in- 
stincts of children. In the lives of young children the cat plays 



an important role. It is ceremonially named, often with epi- 
thets designating its form, acts, or traits, as names are given 
by our Indian tribes, or to dolls. It sings, scolds, swears, 
smiles, laughs, talks, saying words and sentences, has its own 
code of conduct to which it must be trained with many penal- 
ties, is bad or good in many ways or degrees. It pities, appre- 
ciates care, is sorry, cross, understands, is moody, and finii fciis 
often means tears an<l elaborate funerals. At all ages, but far 
more so as puberty approaches, the cat is the girl's pet as the 
dog is the boy's. Boys' interest in cats as fighters, however, 
rises very rapidly through the early teens, that of the girls 
mlher declining. Puberty at first seems to augment in both 
«xes the feeling that the cat really '* says things," allhaugh 
tins new sympathy soon declines. Despite its cruelty to birds, 
etc.. it pities more, seems more musical, etc.. just in projjortion 
as the child's own psychic life expands. But even with girls 
interest in this pet after an initial increase is greatly reduced 
again by the middle teens. The varieties of punishment are 
les and there is less zest in disciplining it. It eats, sleeps, is 
mid, sick, etc.. like us. but its rapport with the child's higher 
qualities now nascent is less, and it never equals the dog in this 
nspect. Boys often become torturers or kill it in a way that 
sttms inexcusable, and thus childish interest may come lo a 
sharply marked conclusion. The acute detection and respon- 
iivencss to every feature, act. and trait, shade of eyes, colors, 
markings, shape of foot. ear. degree of gentleness, activity, 
tamcncss; its most attractive quality of the power to play; its 
ix, which must be adjusted somewhat to that of the child, 
thai it may be easily handled, many animals being too small, 
others too big for them; its nocturnal habits in sleeping day- 
Inoes; its power to climb, almost as Impressive as that of the 
"iog lo swim; the progressive recognition of se.\ in naming 
csi3;the fact that here, too, there is not one expression of in- 
terest in feline anatomy, which many school courses make so 
prominent ; the pubescent lapse }jack at first to earlier interests, 
K if here again adolescence were not so old or mature as child- 
!iorrfl_in all tills we see restored in childhood the psychic stage 
of taming animals and how importatit a factor in llie education 
of a child is experience with pets like this. As no camivora 
wrtso well fitted to their wild environment as the cat family, 


in her. It is preeminently the plaything animal, with a place 
in several score of plays and games, is highly anthropo- 
morphized ami so is an important revealer of childhood. It is 
sometimes loved in old age chiefly as a memento of childliood, 
with which often no animal is so closely connected. 


Mr. Bticke ' has ma<le tentative but suggestive statistical 
cun'cs showing pubescent ciianges of zest for some of the com- 
mon forms of aniinal life, as illustrated on opposite page. 

From the census on which these cur\'es were constructed, 
H appears that boys' love of and interest in dogs at all ages 
exceeds that of girls, but rises rapidly from seven to fourteen, 
where it appears to culminate. Girls' interest follows rather 
iwarly the same curve. Boys' interest in cats is at all ages 
much inferior to that of girls, and appears to culminate at 
tkvm, while girls' interest does not increase after eight. 
Boys' interest in the horse rises very rapidly during the early 
terns. Their interest in rabbits docs not appear to increase 
after the righth or ninth year, but rather to decline. Girls' 
interest in canaries shows an early pubescent rise. The popu- 
brit)' of dogs for both boys and girts at early puberty is more 
Mid more based upon their intelligence. The ascription of moral 
(jualities and love of animals generally undergo some decline 
« ilie dawn of puberty, where tliere is a stage of disillusion 
ud the high childisli estimate is corrected by progressive 
koowledge. but after about fourteen, feeling for common ani- 
nulsand a belief in their intelligence rise again. From eight 
Id nine there is great disillusion of the feeling that animals 
^eciate care, but the impression that they do so, after being 
tor a time repressed by intelligence, rises instinctively again 
later. Games of hide and seek, catch ball, etc.. also decline 
rapidly at alxiut eight or nine and thereafter. Tlie appreciation 
oi the utility of the dog in both boys and girls rises rapidly and 
steatHly through the early teens. Disposition to train dogs in- 
creases very rapidly from ten to fifteen. Of all the animals 
tttedog is the favorite; cats follow; then come birds, rabbits, 
Iwrees, parrots, chickens, pigeons, squirrels, and many others. 
Although most of the exploration in this field of youthful in- 
leiest is yet to be done, and the above conclusions are sure to 
fceoofeor less modified, we can already see that just as man's 
fardopment woukl have been very different without animals, 
and the fishing, hunting, and pastoral stages, so childhood is 
naimcd if tong robbed of its due measure of Influences from 
this comprehensive arsenal of educational material. Indeed, 

'Cjroo. PsychoMs. I'ed. Sem.. Dec., 1903, Tol. i, pp. 4S9-513> 













- y^ 





I can almost Ivelieve that, if pcdagog^y is ever to become ade- 
quate to the needs of the soul, the lime will come when ani- 
mals will play a far larger educational role than has yet been 
conceived, that they will be curriculized, will acquire a new and 
higher humanistic or culture value in the future comparable 
with their utility in the past, and that there will be a new poign- 
ancy of regret over the loss by extermination of many species 

akin to that now felt at the 
barbaric iconoclasm that 
has deprived the world of 
so many of the priceless 
monuments of antiquity. 

Meanwhile one of the 
greatest educational needs 
of the present lime is not 
one but a scries of animal 
books, one each on, e. g., 
the dog, cat, lion, the 
monkey, horse, snake, one 
each on several species of 
birds, fish, and insects, and 
a dozen or two more 
of a kind that does not now exist, giving very little about 
structure hut much about nests, food-getting, migrations, ani- 
mal families, homes, and colonies, domestication, training, 
with some standard tales and fables, folk-lore, literature, 
breeds, myth, and [>oetry, copiously ilhistrated. and full of the 
spirit of the field naturalist, observer, and lover, something of 
animals famous in history, with some, but not too many, eco- 
nomic uses and stilt less technicalities, and guided in each case 
by some sucli studies as those above instanced on the dog and 
cat. To one in ra[>port with interests of childhood and youth it 
requires no Phaethon flight of imagination to see in the future 
a new type of literature here that will rescue the early teaching 
of zoology from its present degradation, which will utilize for 
moral and humanistic as well as scientific uses a wealth of 
natural zest now going to waste. I am glad to know a very 
ievi people who could confecl such a book, but tliey are not 
professors or even high school teachers of biology, for these 
have singularEy lost contact with the nature and needs of child- 

•So^ irjia tmln Aogi 




Tiotxl and youtli and regard the spirit of Brehm's Tkierkben 
as obsolete and unscientific. 

Finally, in view of all this, there is no other possible con- 
tusion than that the problem of teaching sciences in the teens 
is in the main yet to be solved. City life favors knowledge of 
mankind, physics, and perhaps chemistry, but so removes the 
child from the heavens and animate nature that it is pathetic 
to see how unknown and merely bookish knowledge of them 
btcomes to the town-bred child. )i\o\ogy, that has given us cvo- 
ialion, is perhaps farthest from recognizing the necessity of 
devekjping a gCTietic pedagogy that shall very slowly pass over 
to the adult logical stage which cross-sections it only when it 
bs completed its own. How undeveloped the development 
itieury still is is here seen in the fact that it has not yet drawn its 
own (Avious but momentous lesson for education where it has 
itsnjost fruitful field of application. When this science knows 
life histories as well as it does morphology it will have the 
naterial with which to begin aright. We no longer deform the 
cfaitd's hoily, and have in more and more ways recognized its 
rights, hut we still arrest and even mxitilatc the soul of adoles- 
cence by prematurely forcing it into the mental mold of 
grtn-n-ups. Instead of the ideal of knowing or doing one 
thing minutely well, like the ant, bee, or wasp, we should con- 
struct, even if at certain points it be done tentatively and 
out of glimpses, aper^is, hints, a true universe, and pass 
from the whole to parts and not vice versa. Love of nature 
always burgeons tn the soul of youth, but its half-grown buds 
are picked open or stunted, and disenchantment too often 
leaves the soul only a few mouthfuls of wretched desiccated 
phrases, as meager and inadequate as those of poetry in a con- 
ttmtional age that has drifted far from her. A tnie pedagogy 
of science is in large measure yet to be developed. Art, liter- 
ature, and perhaps above all, religion, need this reconstruction, 
and I could not lie an optimist in education if T did not e.xpcct 
its coming without the shadow of a doubt. 

Hamack says, " How often in history theology has only 
been a means of setting religion aside." It is just as true 
ihat science is often taught in a way tn destroy the love of the 
vcfy department of nature it should develop. The only cor- 



rective is to introduce evolution as a conscious method, a goal 
lo which everything focuses to a great unity. Heredity, varia- 
tion, recapitulation, natural and artificial selection, the strug- 
gle for existence, parasitism and retrogression, development 
histories. lessons from pateontolugy, etc., are perfectly practical 
themes when made concrete in the high school. I'here is no 
such correlation and coordination, no such lever of culture, 
nulhing so educational, necessary, and. I believe, inevitable. 
Nor should it be restricted to the biological field where it is 
always implicit and irrepressible to even youthful minds that 
have begun to really think, llic proper introduction to nature 
study in adolescence includes ether, nebula;, young and old 
worlds, rotation of cooling masses, and formation of orbits 
and systems, the geological strata, the ascending orders of life, 
the descent of man, his primitive modes of life, thought, and 
feeling, as taught by anthropology, the unfoldment of arts, 
industries, social life, culture, the stages of development of 
science and the great heroes of each, and finally the slow 
growth of morals and religion and their institutions. This 
view of the world is the greatest achievement of our race, re- 
establishes on firmer bases all the goods and truths men have 
striven and died for in the past, takes away nothing, gives 
back and enriches all that is worth while tliat was thought 
imperi!e<l, gives all who teach it wisely and well new mission- 
ary zest for their work, and fires the heart and mind of youth. 
Its unprecedaited pedagogic motive power is still for the 
most part imutilized. It is a new educational gospel just re- 
vealed and not yet proclaimed. Adequately taught it would 
revolutionize not only instruction in science but in every other 
department. The enthusiasm at new utilizations of natural 
forces, legitimate as it is, is a low thing compared with that 
felt when some great law or group of facts swings into its 
true place in the development history of the world. Of all 
pedagogic problems since the Renaissance the greatest and 
most pressing is now upon us, viz., to bring out these latent 
educational potentialities in effecting what Forel calls the next 
step in increasing the perfectibility of man.' 

' .\8 I write cumvs ■ modest allennpt tn begin just lliit work In ibe euiiext («ens. 
Uir Abslammung* Lehre im Unlerricht der Schule. by W. Sdtoenicbvn. l^ipiis, 
190^. Sm atw allnnpu hf D. K. ShnCe, A. W. Bickerton, A. R. Dewar, C, 
Morri) & Co. 



Christianity not only depends on but recognizes the relig- 
ion of nature that underlies it in ever more conscious and 
slill more unconscious ways. The sentiments on which the 
highest religion rests are best trained in children on the no- 
blest olijects of nature. Natural theology once hart, and is 
tlestined in new forms to have again, a great role in the 
intellectual side of religious training. So. too, in m,any sum- 
mer meetings, twilight services on hills or exposed to vesper 
influences, perhaps out of doors, are found to have wondrous 
recn for cements. Worship on a hill or mountain, at the shore, 
out at sea, under towering trees, or in solemn forests or tlowcry 
pniens, amidst harvest scenes, in moonlight, at midnight, at 
6wn. in view of the full moon, with the noises of the wind 
or streams, the hum of insects, the songs of birds, or iu pastoral 
scenes, is purer and more exalting for these pagan influences 
set to the music of nature from which they all took their origin. 
than it can ever be in stuffy churches on noisy city streets upon 
tfie dull or familiar words of litany, sermon, or Scripture. 
Here, again. so-calle<l *' progress " has broken too completely 
ifith the iwst and forgotten the psychogenesis of religion, 
which has thus grown anemic, superficial, and formal. It is 
the okl error of amputating the tadpole's tail rather than letting 
it be absorbed to develop the l^s that make a higher life on 
land possible: 



1. I'ubk iiilliAlion omonf; Tbiinketi, Mellaknhtlans, Omah&s, llujws, Ilopis, 
/uni*. Scriji. lliAtiliuis, Alices, Ausir&lun&, P«puai», ancient inhAbilKDls ol 
ladu, y.alai, I'ygmies, Bcchiunu, Kosas — Circumciiion once a wide-ipmd 
yubk rite — III value Mid meaning. It. Ephetnc education in ancient timca 
ami Ktune — The uie of soog, poetry, myth, phtlo&oph)', [ihj-tiical and miliurr 
traiuin)[, antique muMC, ceremonies, highet education, poUtict, the foga firilit, 
111 Tlte nJvmt of jrouth In tncdicvol knighthood. )V. Rcligiouk confimu- 
tion, ill ceremonies and the idc&s thai underlie ihem, among (a) the Jews; (/) 
CalhoUc* 1 {i*} Ruisiana ; {J) Eptscopalians ; {t) Lniheran*. 

ArTBB the chapters on love and on the feelings for nature, 
aiul before considering the subjective religious clianges at this 
■liigeof life, we must pause to describe the objective reg^inien to 
which youth have been subjected as they cross the threshold 
fruin childhood to maturity. The universality of these rites 
iind their solemn character testify impressively to a sense of 
the ciitical im|)ortance of this age almost as wide as the race. 
Here education began and extended up toward more mature 
years antl downward toward infancy almost in exact propor- 
tUxi ns civilization and its luggage of cultures and skills in- 
crM»e<l. The hinclions of the teacher began genetically with 
llw rude r^'mentations, tortures, mutilations, instructions 
often nwst antihygienic, and immoral ceremonies of these 
illilintions to manhood, womanhood, and often at the same 
lime tv> nubility, with almost no interval after the first physical 
i'^Wi i>f puberty, for the slow processes of maturation of body 
itAwX *Otd. The progressive increase of this interval is another 
illdrv of the d^frce of civilization, as is also the mitigation of 
the primitive perwrsity of tlie early teacher to which in recent 
nNtturtcs individuals and localities have often tended to relapse. 
0( the inijhirtance of this stage of transition, religion, which is 
%\ |MremiurntIy co^ser^■alive. has preserved the best and most 
AttVit^wlr sense. It stilt maintains the idea that the great change 



is fixed, brief in time, radical in nature, and mediated to a 
grtater or less extent by exlenial pious offices. Secular and 
purely intellectual education, however, has broken so radically 
«ith the consensus of the past as to retain no vestige of rect^- 
nilion of this great revolution, and hence natural interest, 
ffhich is to the school what the Holy Spirit is to the Church 
or his Muse to the poet, has been ignored and even suspected, 
and motiv-ations of utility, always of a far lower order, or else 
the pedagogic fictions of special disciplinary virtue inherent 
in indifferent or abhorred studies, which is the last resource of 
the baffled and belated conservatives, have been invoked in 
its place. Credo quia absurdiim had some justification, be- 
Quse the heart often needs what the head condemns. Doceo 
^io abhorretuium has none, and its analogies are with methods 
of the savage past, of which I now give the best samples, which 
might, however, be greatly increased in number. It would 
setm that among American aborigines the girl receives most 
attention, while in Africa and in the Eastern islands it is be- 
stowed upon the boy. 

]. Pbiuitiv'e People — (a) American aborigines. — In the life of 

the Thiinket Iherc is .ilniOiil nothing between childhood .ind adult age. 

"Youth, that delicious pause between infaticy and n^alurity, has no 

place in his existence. At an age when our children are barely ready 

to lay aside pinafore and short trousers. Alaskan boys and girls arc 

declared old enough lo marry and begin life for themselves." ' " The 

fjfsi great event in the 'ndiuket girl's life is her arrival at maturity." 

The old custom was to banish her for six months in a small out- 

housc, from which she could not stir except after dark, when she 

tnuit go with her mother, and wear a rlonk or hood as badge 

of her condition. The daughters of the rich were imprisoned longer, 

but in larger huts. somctimcH elegant, and with several girl friends. 

Sometimes a corner of a room was partitioned oflT for her hy boards 

and blanket screens. During this isolation she was kept very busy 

cariy and late sewing squirrel skins into blankets, and weaving hals 

and baskets, to leach her industry and patience. On the first day of 

her retreat, a tiny pin was inserted through her lower lip by a .slave, 

who was then either freed or killed, according to the mood of his 

master. This, on the wedding-day, was changed to a tabret. The 

first four days were a fast : then the mother broujjht a Hllle grease and 

2 tiny basket of water. The latter must be overturned three times 

• Thlinkcw of Soqiheastcm AUsla^ by F, Kpapp an4 R. L. Cbilde. 
1S96. dup. viL 




before she could drink, to teach her self-denial. Then she could eal 
the grease and sip four swallows of water through the hollow bone 
of a stork's 1e^. Comptimentary boxes of grease were also sent out 
to the chief families oi the father's totem. Then followed another four 
days of fast, and then a regular diet of dried venison, fish, and pota- 
toes; but great care must be exercised, for fat meat would make her 
stout, clams lean, anjthing raw wmihl make her die young, portions 
of the salmon would make her thoughts transparent. ShnuH she dress 
her hair before the fifth day, it would come out. She must noi move 
about much, kst she acquire habit* of reslleisncss; must not talk 
much, lest slie become a scold. Reserve, self-control, and the weigh- 
ing of consequences were emphasized. She soon took this life philo- 
sophically, and strove to fix all her thoughts upon rapid workman- 
ship and skilful weaving. Her prayers during this sechision were 
very efTective. When this period was over, the friends of ihe parents 
were inviu-d orally " m ace ihc girl behind the cloth." At this com- 
ing-out feast the daughter was introduced to the young men of the 
oppowtc phratry. Wealthy families made great poilatehes. Tht- de- 
butante was led out by her mother and girl friends, in a new calico 
dress, costly Chilkat blanket, and basket-woven conical hat witli to- 
tcmic designs, silver and ahalonc rings in her nose, broad bands of 
silver from her wrists to her elbows, many rows of fancy beads about 
the ankles, and embroidered nioccasinH. She wa.s niounlcd on a box. 
Conscious of luuking her best, she met without flinching the gaze of 
the curious. If she were healthy and industrious, modest and re- 
served, spoke slowly, quietly, and movei! deliberately, and especially 
if she had gained a reputation for unusual industry and skill, suitors 
abounded and she was very soon married. 

" It was the custom among the Metlakahtlans to confine for one 
month in an isolated cabin girls when attaining the age of puberty, 
usually their thirteenth year. No one is allowed to sec them during 
this time, and it is supposed they arc away on a voyage to the moon 
or some other celestial abode, and at the end of the month they return 
to their people, amid great feasting and rejoicing." On these «icca- 
sion.s. and when youth arc Initiated into the mysteries of Shamanism, 
dog-caling. devil-dancing, cannibalism, and the reckless giving away 
or destruction of property occur.' 

The Omaha child was initiated into the tribe at three, but its in- 
dividual life did not begin till its mind had "become white," or till 
events arc recalled with cicamoss and full detail. This comes at 
about the age of puberty, whe:n the youth is "inducted into religious 
mysteries by a distinct personal experience acquired by the rile. Non- 
zhin-zhou, which brouKht them intu what was believed to be direct 
pommunications with the supernatural powers. In preparation for this 
rite the Omaha youth was taught the tribal prayer. He was to sing 
it during the four nights and days of his vigil in some lonely place. 



As he left his home his parents put ctny on his head, and to tench him 
self-control they placed a bow and arrows in his hand, with the in- 
junction i>ot to use thorn during his long fast, no matter how great 
the temptation might be. He was bidden to weep as he sung the 
prayer and 10 wipe his tears with the palms of his hands, to lift his 
wet hands to heaven, and then lay ihctn on the earth. With these 
instmclions, the youth departed to enter upon the trial of hts endur* 
ance. When at last he fell into a sleep or trance and the vision came 
of bird or beast or cloud, bringing with it 3 cadence, this song became 
tver after iJie medium of comniunicaiion between man and the mys- 
terious power typified in his vision, and by it he summoned help and 
ttrength in the hour of his need." The words of the prayer are ad- 
dressed 10 VVa-Kon-da, the power that makes and brings to pass and 
ii: "Here, necily. he stands, and I am he." It is far older ihaii the 
advent of Columbus. It is a crj* voicing the climactic desire of the 
youth in hi« weary fast and vigil, as after long preparations he faces 
nature and the supemattjral above. The melody is so sotilful and 
ippealingly prayerful that one can scarcely believe it to be of bar- 
loroas origin, yet what miracles may nut religious feclio); work 1 The 
boy is waiting, in fact, for a vision from on high, a revelation to be 
*wcli83fed to him personally, and to .-ihow what his life is to be, 
whether that of a hunter or of a warrior, medicine man, etc' 

Miss Fletcher also writes me. May 16, 1503: "Among the iribea 
%ilh which I am acquainted ther<; arc ceremonies at puberty, but 
IlKy are rather simple. At maturity the parents of a girl nialcc a 
icut. or else defer the feast until the time of some tribal gathering or 
intival. At this feast the girl is clad in gain dress, anil makes many 
pfts lo ihc guests. She stands beside her mnther, and with her own 
kind ofTcrs the presents. Tiie nfhcial herald sometimes proclaims this 
feast, and those who receive gifts shnut or sing their thanks. By 
this act the girl takes her place among the mature: but in olden limes 
^ was not considered marriagcalilc until site had mastered certain 
art}, as the tanning of skins, cutting and making garments and tents, 

The Hitpa Indians of California have a somewhat elaborate cerc- 
nmny of initiating girls into maturity.' At the dawn of first menstma- 
lioa Ihc girl goes lo one nf the established bathing places in a creek 
Dear by. enters the water at once lo her waist, throws il over each 
shoulder twice with her hands, returns to Ihe house, stoops and puts 
out her hands, looks at the drnir, but does not enter, .^hc then rims to 
another bathing spot about half as far from the house as the first, 
baibcs. and goes back in the same way. Then she goes to a third 
place half the distance of the second. Returning from this last ex- 
cursion, she brings some wood into the house, which no girl can do 

* AUm C Fletcher: ladioo Story and Sons rrom North America, 1900, p. 97 

■ i^oddtrd: Life and Culture of the Huap, vol. i. p. $3 ^ ttf. 



belyrc. She must not eat until this is done, and her chaperon gives 
her but one regular meal a day. She must go without drinking water 
foe ten days, during which this ceremony is repeated, and must live 
upon acorn mush, dried cris, and »almon, but must eat no fresh (ish. 
During all thi$ lime she must wear a dress made o£ the inner bark of 
the Diaple, shredded out and woven into cloth, such as those women 
who arc training lo be doctors always wear thereafter. She must 
never touch her hair or face, is dressed by the chaperon, and wears a 
thkrp bit of bone about her neck, shaped something like a human nail, 
with which she may scratch her hair. It she touches it with her own 
nails they will decay and fall. During these days she must not look 
at the sky, must look no one in the face, least of all a man, and white 
in the house is covered with a blanket if a man enters. She must t«e 
very careful in her acts and words, for whatever she says or dreams 
during these ten days will come true, and slie will ever afterward be 
what she was during her training. It is considered an honor to go 
through itve entire period, and many are not able to stand the train- 
iltg iio long. 

The second night, dancing begins. It is in the house, but the girl 
U covered with a blanket. In the dances the women sit around tlie 
wall, and the men shake and brandisli sticks made of mock orange, 
aplil lit the end so that they will rattle, and decorated with paint. 
When the men go out, at intervals of about an hour, the women sing. 
Thii lasts (or nine nights. At the concluding session a special song 
In itung, which is not allowed at any ether time, during which the 
hlnnket is held over the girl and struck with sticks. VNHien the men 
leave at daybreak, the girl is uncovered and comes forth. Two women 
•laud in front of the house, one hundred yards from it, facing each 
other, holding abalone shells high above them. As the girl comes 
inward them she whips herself over the shoulder with woven strands 
«f n>aptc bark like her dress. She approaches and then backs from 
(htf woitteri, al\ thr while whipping herself. When near them she 
ItapK up and gazes into the shells, repeating this ten times for each 
WOinnn. She has now seen the world of the immortals, and makes a 
Anal trip to the bath, followed by small boys, who try to make her 
iottli back. If they succeed, all the ceremony has to be begun again. 
When Ihe halh is ended she is a free woman. Sometimes the dance is 
iitttlttrd It is said that no sttch ceremooia) is known for young men 
HiiHutg ihis tribe. 

AuHHig the Crrsccnl City Athabascan Indians a similar ceremony. 
with MMiir variation, is established. There are usually two meals a 
day, Ahlumgh some cat but twice in the entire ten days; the less eaten, 
thv bctier. Inslead of bathing, the girl must swim, and before daylight. 
an«l (hht (or four months. No man and not even a boy must be in 
\)\v lunite when she cats. Her body is cut with sharp grass. Medi- 
viw* li nutde over her food. She must now wear in her nose, which 
hitk ttvvu prcviviufUy pierced, the feather of the yellowhammer. In 
ittc ilaiuv thert arc six very distinct motions. She must peep into 






Ihc house five times before ctilcring. and walk up itkI down five times 
bchim] the door Sometimes the dance is repeated at llie advent of 
llie second period. Every absentee must have an effig>' representing 
htra a he would live long. All is done will) the strictest solemnity 
tod seriousness. 

J. Walter Fcwktfs writes me. May t8, 1903: "The Hopi maid, at 
the time of her fir^t menstruation, invites her girl friends to a family 
lestival, which one often 'happens in upon' in prowling about the 
|Kb1a. Naturally, the participants are very shy, and alihough I have 
occasionally seen the girls grinding corn in company — which is part 
of the festival — I have never been able to gather much about it 
except tliat it w,-is elaborate and had secret rites. With the boys I 
nppose the flogging ceremony ' ay Powamu ' is practically a puberty 

James Mooney writes me. May 30, 1903: " From general acquaint- 
iDce with Indian things I am inclined to tbtnlc that practically every 
tribe has some puberty rite for girls, and many of them for boys also. 
With boys the 'medicine dream,' in which the young man fasted, 
prayed, and kept vigil to obtain visions of his future guardian spirit, 
took the place of the puberty rite in some tribes. The Mescilews have 
a fNibcrty dance for girls, a public coming-out ceremony. The Chey- 
ennes have a private purification rite for girls, which takes place 
within the tipi in the presence of certain old women, the giri siand- 
ing over a sort of burning incense while the prayers are recited. The 
Qutayti, an ancient incorporated tribe of the Chcycnnes, had a puberty 
rite for boys, during which the young man was painted over his whole 
body with Indian red, which probably remained as a public notifica- 
tion of the fact until it wore off, the Qutayu men wearing only the 
G-string. The Cheyenne ceremony for girls was probably closely 
paralJekd among most of the Plain tribes. The regular menstrual se- 
clusion and taboo for women seems to have been universal, and still 
exists in most tribes." 

Mrs, M. C. Stevenson writes, September 25, 1903 : " With the ZuMs 
marriage usually occurs at very tender years, girls frequently marry- 
ing two years before reaching puberty; but should one not be married 
at ihc time she arrives at womanhood, her mother goes lo the house 
of die paternal grandmother and informs her of the event. The grand- 
mother returns with the mother (if the grandmother is not living the 
paternal aunt fills the placr), and the girl accompanies her grand- 
nK>tbeT to her dwelling, where she labors hard all day grinding com. 
When the girl returns to her home in the evening she carries a bowl 
of meat-stew prepared and presented by the paternal grandmother, 
who returns with her to her house. If a girl works hard at the dawn 
of her womanhood, she will not snfTer pain at this period; should she 
be idle on the first day, she will always suFFcr from dysmenorrhea. 
This is the only occasion when a woman makes a point of exerting 
herself during menstruation. As a rule the women walk but tilllc at 
thi* time; they are excused from carrying water from the well. This^ 



however, is not due to any particular weakness at this period, Uiot^h 

the women do suffer to suiiie extent. They employ tliemEcIves with 
indoor work (a Zuni woman is never idle), usually weaving or grind- 
ing, sitting at the loom or kneeling before ihcir mills over heated sand 
spread thickly upon the floor. Their robes are brought up around 
their waists and blankets are fastened round their shoulders, EaiUng 
loosely to ihe floor, covering all traces of the sand. [This custom 
has been largely discontinued since I secured the confidence of ihe 
women.] Extreme delicacy is observed by the women at this period. 
A heated stone is worn in the belt and a hot tea made of cedar is 
frequently drunk. The menses usually continue four days, but in 
some cases cease ai the expiration of two or three days. The Zuni 
women are not segregated during this period. It is claimed that a 
certain root tea, which is drunk hot, will permanently suspend the 
menses after four nionthg. The first two months the flow is said to 
he copious and of a very dark color, the third month (he color is nor- 
mal, and the fourth month the discharge is almost colorless, after 
which tile calamciii.i ce.ise- Specimens of the root referred to were 
collected during the summer of 1902, and are now with the remainder 
of ihe plant collection in tlie National Museum for classification. I 
would add that this root is in the possession of certain old medicine 
men and women, who carefully guard the secret, tliat the young 
women may not procure the medicine and thereby render themselves 
incapable of becoming mothers." 

W J Mcdec writes me, May 13, 1903 : " There are elaborate (rela- 
tively, if not absolutely) puberty rites for girts in the Seri tribe, 
though I was unable to obtain much information concerning them from 
the Indians themselves, and none from any other source. So far as 
1 can judge, these observances are of an imporlance proportionate to 
that of the mortuary observances over matrons or that of the mnriial 
regulations and ceremonies — indeed, go far as I could learn, the only 
collective ceremonies of such consequence as to bring together (he 
several clans arc the girls' pulicrty feasts. In certain cases, at least, 
hodtly mutilations arc suffered by females (e. g., the removal of the 
incisors, noted in Hrdiicka's description of Ihe skeletmi obtained by 
me), though I was unable to ascertain whether this is connected with 
puberty or witli marriage ceremonials, which are in some degree in- 

Partridge says: "The use of intoxicants in pubertal rites is very. 
common, especially among the American Indians. The Tuscaroras 
of North Carolina, among other initiatory ordeals for boys, adminis- 
ter to them some kind of a bark and stimuLiling plants, which 
reduce them to a slate of raving intoxication. When the Creek boy» 
were to be initiated into manhood, tliey gathered two handfuls of a 
certain plant which intoxicates and maddens, and continued eating 
the bitter root for a whole day, and then steeped the leaves in water 
and drank from this decoction." 






On the first siRn of pubcrly, the Brazilian ' girl, secluded for a 
mODlti previously indoors and fed on bread and water, is brought out 
naked before all relations and friends, and cacli person prc&cnt gives 
her Are or six severe blows with a sipo across back and breast till 
die fails senseless, and .sometimes dead. If she recovers, tl is repeated 
by tliem every six hours, and it is considered an ofTcnsc to parents 
not to strike hard. Pots of meat and fish are prepared and tlie sifios 
dipped in them and given her to lick; then she is a woman, can eat 
anyihinp. am) may marry. 

Boys undergo a similar ordeal but not so severe, which allows 
them to sec the Jurupari — pipes or trumpets made of bamboo or palm 
ucms and hollowed, each pair producing a distinct note — a mystery 
nhich no woman can sec on pain of death. If they arc heard, every 
woman hides, and if she is thought lo have seen thcra she is killed 
by poison. On the Rio dc la Plata the girl is sewn up in her hammock 
as if she were dead, with only a small breathing hole. Very many 
dietary customs are enforced on pulKsccnt girls. These ceremonies 
are for first menstruation only. 

Among the ancient Axtccs, children from (he earliest years were 
trained to endure hunger, cold, and heat; ihcy were made to sleep 
on a mat, and when tiiey reached the age of puberty were taught the 
use of arms; ihcy accompanied their fathers on military expeditions, 
and were taught trades. If detected in lies, their tongues were 
pricked with agave thorns; the feet of those who ran away were 
bound; quarrelsome children were whipped with nettles. Two ancient 
doctunenis, of too great length (o quote here, containing some of a 
(ather's teaching to his son and that of a mother to her daughter, con- 
»titutc an admirable code of morals and manners, which with a few 
changes in detail would be helpful in any land and age.* 

Pritchard' says: "A certain stage in the life ol each girl is cele- 
brated by a festivity in the camp. An ornamented loldo is put up 
temporarily for the girl's occupation, and the young men of the tribe 
march around it singing, while the women howl, probably with a view 
of exorcising any evil spirit which may be lingering about llie camp. 
The ceremony is followed by a feast, and the evening winds up with 
a dance. The men alone take part tn this, and it consists in circling 
armmd the fire, pacing soniclimes slowly and sometimes quickly. A 
few dance at a lime, accompanying their nioveiiicnis by a constant 
bcnring or nodding of llie head, which is adorned with tufts of ostrich 
feather*. When one party is tired out, another lakes its place." 

(b) Thf Far East. — Haddon ' describes many ceremonies of initia- 
tion of boys into manhood, such a<i are found throughout the greater 

* A. R, Wfclker: Travel* un th« Amuon, 1889, p. 525. 

*The Axteo: Their Kuiury, Manneii, nnd Customs, by Lncien BisrL Trans. 
bfj- I» (laraer. t^icago. iqoo, p. 314 ri sff. 

* Throogli the Heart of PalaKonia. New Vork, 190a, p. 9a, 

* Head llonters, BI«ck, While, and Brown. London, i^ot, cbap. itefrtf. 



part of the Mclaucsian and tlic liidQiicsiaii Archipelago. These begin 
when lads first show a sprouting beard. They are secluded in a 
tabooed spot in the bu&h, instructed in the moral code, social customs, 
and sacred legends, which a man must know, especially those con- 
nected wilh the tuteraic antmal, plant, or object peculiar to the dan. 
Many of these customs are it] various &tagcs of disintegration, and 
old men often weep over the profanation of ancient mysteries, of 
which only just enough echoes are preserved to enable us to under- 
stand some of their old solemnity. It is very hard to get all of the 
sacred words, formula;, and myths, but Haddon has found more of 
them in the East than any one else, and has even obtained masks and 
cither parapliomalia, photographed some of the scenes of the cere- 
monies, obtained songs in phonographs, etc. 

The Malu mysteries are cherished somewhat as we cherish the 
church and school, lliey take the young man out of tlic family and 
weld him into a Milidarity wilh the community in which he lives. 
They often follow the death dances. Boys that have been good are 
treated easily, while the bad ones may be iniliated with great cruelty. 
The morality taught, as far as it goes, is often high, and one common 
exhortation is not to be tike women in various enumerated respects. 

All the manifold Australian rites agree in being tests of endurance 
of pain. In almost all. the boys lose one or more teeth. There is ao 
elaborate ceremony with a grass effigy of a kangaroo, by which the 
young are given power over this animal. The men personate the 
kangaroo, with grass tails, leaping, looking about, lying on tlieir sides, 
while others act the part of hunters and pretend to kill them. In 
some forms the operators deliberately cut long gashes on the back 
and shoulders, and if the youth groans or even winces, three long 
yells indicate that he is unworthy to be a warrior, and he is banded 
over to the women, to be forever ranked with them and to do their 
tusks. In a mental trial a crystal with magic power is given to each 
candidate, and the old men try all their arts of persuasion to induce 
him to give it up. If he does not resist all their threats and cajoleries, 
be is rejected as a warrior. When the ceremony is over, with loud 
yells the women are summoned, and great dances and feasts occur. 
The young men who have passed through these ceremonies think very 
highly of themselves, and go out to bunt the lar^st game. 

The most careful study of pubertal rites yet made is by Mathews.* 
Some Australian tribes have typical and elaborate initiation cere- 
monies called Burbuug or Bora, for iheir adulciiccnts. In an open- 
ing in the woods a round cleared space of eighty to ninety feet in 
diameter is marked by a groove in the soiL In the center is a short 
potc. to the top of which bushes aod cnm feathers are ded. From 


* R. H. Miuhrm: JowmI ot the Asthrvpotocical iMtitueof Ctcu Briuin and 
XntiDd, r>Lxnv, ff. 411-^7: uv. pf>L t97-i3f>i "n, pp. sTa-aSs. 3ao-34(k 
Sm abe his JaMmdac vwust : TIm Toan C«n«oay of ibe Dipld Tribes ot 

•flwiwiliiit Ab. Aathn^Mk>(wt. Ju<ufy-Mucl^ i9oaw p. ij^ 



tlii« drcle a track about four feet wide runs several hundred yards 
tnio brush and scnib, Firsl, beside this patli is a hole Ihrcc feci by 
eighteen inches, to represent the place where a girl must sit durinjj 
ber hrsl menstruation. A few yards farther is a human figure and an 
emu, life sire, cut in the ground, Next come two spiral strips cut in 
a tree and other zigzags to represent lightning; then a fire, which is 
kept burning during all the days of the ceremony, and a gigantic 
human figure, twenty-one feet long, with the dent of his fist in the 
ground where he fell, always madt beside his figure by puddling clay. 
This figure represents BaiamaJ, the culture hero who slew Dhurmoo- 
lan, an awful being, with a voice like thunder, by whom boys used 
tn be taken to the bruiib to be instructed in the ciisionis, laws, and 
traditions of the community, that Uicy might take part in councils 
and do all the duties of tribesmen. Each boy, it was said, he cut up, 
burned, formed the ashes tn human shape, and restored to life, with 
the exception of one upper front tooth, which he kept and the loss 
of which was a sign of initiation. It was found out, however. Chat he 
bit out the tooth, and often devoured a boy. So after killing him 
Baiamai put his voice into the trees, from which it could he charmed 
into bull-roarers made from their wood. Farther along thiii walk is 
A tree with an imitation of an eagle's nc^t, figures representing the 
mn and moon cut large through the bark to the white, an immense 
fabulous snake-like monster (ifiy-nine feet long, four little mounds 
of earth, making a square, with native weapons stuck in them for 
decoration, and between these, four seats made of sapling-s dug up 
with tlicir roots, formed to a scat stained with human blood and their 
stems inverted in the ground, while turtles, iguanas, and fish, pointed 
up and down, carved on tree-trunks, with other mystic lines ami pat* 
icms, complete the scenes for this long walk, which is terminated by 
a screen of boughs. 

Early in the spring two messengers are sent to invite the neigh* 
boring tribes. They carry kilts and bull-roarers, and arrive at the 
camp at about sundown, when the men come home. A council is 
held, at which the invitation is presented anH discussed anH word sent 
to the next camp. 'J~hey all muster, so as to arrive on the prepared 
ground together, and arc ceremoniously received in the circle; some- 
tUBtt two or three weeks arc spent before the arrival of the last con- 
ringent. For several days there is much marching, stamping, and 
beating the ground with resonant pandamelon skins, and other per- 
formances. Finally all assemble, the men painted in full savage re- 
galia, tramping and waving their arms or dancing a corroboree, and 
the women throwing leaves at them. Sometimes the men represent 
dogs running after each other, or kangaroos, or they parody an emu 
hunt, and the wizards perform their mummeries. Recent initiates 
ar« taken over the walk, and all thr devices of the sacred ground 
where they had been inducted the year before arc fully explained to 
tfaem. During the night bull-roarers are sounded, and the boys are 
told that the dreadful Dhurmoolan is coming tor them the next mom- 



iOg, At dawn all assemble iu tlie circlv, each tribe distinct, the hoy» 
toibe initialed sitting naked on bark back of ihc circle, looking at 
the earth, each with his st&ter near by and her husband^ who acts 
as the boy's guardian during the ceremony. Tlic two latter paint 
each boy all over with red ochre, put pipe marks on hi^ breatt, swan 
feathers in his hair, and gird liim witli a band willi four kilts depend- 
ing, representing a man's dress, while his head is Iwund with two 
bands. The headsman then shouts: " He is coming — He down ! " All 
the women and boys are then securely covered with blankets, and 
men stay to watch that they do not see. A group of men advance 
from the sacred path, beating the ground with sonorous pieces oE 
bark, tramp around, sound the bull-roarers, and with a great noise 
throw brands near the women and children, to make them Ihiilk 
Dhurmoolan tried lo bum them. Each guardian then catches his 
boy under the arm, and leads him along the path, all the men follow- 
ing with terrific din. They are then taken a few miles away, scale 
and given advice on the conduct of life and on the coming ceremony, ' 
when the blankets arc removed from their heads. Here they are 
kepi two or three days, watched and taught, and join the men for the 
first Lime in bunting. Every night the men steal o0 and make a great 
noise, pretending to drive oflf the giant who seeks to bum the boys. 
Meanwhile those in camp form a yard, shaped like a horseshoe, and 
thickly walled with boughs, and here on a platform opposite the open- 
ing they await them. When they arrive eacli boy gets on the shoul- 
ders of his guardian, and the sisters or mothers spirt pipe-clay into 
their faces. After a night here, four days more arc spent in the brush, 
and they are stiM further instructed in the tribal ordinances and 
taught »ongs attd dances which women and the uninitiated never 
know and which it is unlawful (o hear or teach elsewhere. Each boy 
is given a new name, known only to the initialed, each animal is given 
a. secret name, and there arc many ceremonials and sham fights, panto- 
mimes, and trick magic, leaping on the four mounds, running among 
the inverted roots of saplings above described, shouting the names of 
other ifora grounds, squatting in black paint and with horrid grimaces, 
long and silent gazing at the feet, tableaux often disgustingly obscene, 
songs and dancing, during all of which the boys are not allowed to 
question or speak, and thus by these and other devices they arc well 
seasoned to fear. At the last afternoon the boys' heads are again 
covered with blankets and a big hre is kindled, where they are told 
they are likely to be burned. Then the blankets are taken oft and 
the boys are shown the men with bull-roarers, fumigated, and in- 
formed that Dhurmoolan is only they ; hts story is told, the rites 
explained, and death threatened for any revelation of what they have 
learned, They are told that when they marry it must be according to 
the totem laws, which arc explained. All the symbols of every ob- 
ject beside the path and the rites are also explained. Formerly human 
ordure was eaten, a tooth extracted, and the hair cut. 

The ceremonies differ in detail among different tribes. In one 



form of ttie ceremony the novitiates, when lalceii from their molhers 
ami rrlaiives, nrc made to IkIicvc thnt a giani ha.s slain thcni all, 
^hilc mothers loudly lament, that the young girU may think the hoys 
arc ttll slain. Tlie boys are initialed into many forms nf gross ob- 
scenity. Instca^l of a hiankcl over his head, the novice may have to 
sit and walk all day with his head and eyes bent down so low that 
he faints on being allowed to straighten up after dark. In the bush 
he may he required to go off alone and sustain himself hy hunting. 
The mode of death threatened for revealing what is seen or heard or 
lor speaking of or letting women know of the bull-roarer differs, as 
does the mfxtc of impressing the form and meaning of ihL' figures 
cut in the trees or on the ground. If a tooth is removed, the boy's 
Icct are confined in a hole in the ground. Mis hair may be singed 
and bis body painted white, so Uiat his mother can not recognize 
htm. The annual dances vary, and the camp is often daily split into 
small groups. There is a wide field of exceeding difficulty ycl to be 
explored before it can be known just what the novices arc taught and 
what is tlie esoteric significance of tliese mysteries. Great precau- 
tions are taken that none but the initiated shall ever penetrate tliem. 
Many ceremonies are according to a minutely prescribed ritual, and 
on the other hand (he program is often made up anew each night for 
the next day. 

Among the Victorian aborigines' boys of thirteen arc taken away 
from the camp by old men for almnl a month, during which lime they 
arc inMnicled in the legends of the tribe. At the end of this time 
each is held by two men, while two others bore the flesh aroimd one 
of bis front teeth with a piece of bone, and then knock it out with a 
bit of wood used as a punch. The nakedness is then covered, and he 
returns to the camp. At eighteen years of age he is again taken 
away and the initiation completed. The tribes of the Xarra River 
eat human excrement as one part of the symbolic ceremonies of initia- 
tion. In another form of the ceremany. known as Tit-biit, the boys of 
fourteen or fifteen arc led away, and the hair cut close with ehip.s of 
quarttite, except a strip half an inch wide from the middle of the 
forehead to the neck. Naked save at the hips, which are covered 
Willi opossum skin and strings of the fur. ilic initiated is daubed 
witli clay and every kind of filth, and with a basket full of the same 
material he wanders throughout the camp, casting it at every one. He 
is isolated, and no one speaks to him till his hair begins to grow, when 
he is given over to the women, who wash and paint him and dance 
before him. Among some tribes the noviLiate is simply cloilied with 
man's attire ceremonially. Probably most accounts here and elsc- 
wfarre are mere fragments of far more elaborate ceremonials, which 
axe so carefully guarded that it is very dllliculc to gain access to the 
rites and far more so to Icarn their meaning, which latter is often for- 

' The Viciofu Aborigines: Their Initialion Ccremonk*, etc., by R. H 
MMbews. Ank Anthropologist, Nov-cmbcr, 1898, p. i»letstg. 



p>tten by the narives iTiemsclves. Many of the forms icctn to be pro- 
bationary or dff;cncralc. 

Among the natives of the Murray Kiver another ceremony occurs 
when lads art about sixteen. They arc seirod and conducted to the 
chosen field amidst the cries and self -mutilations of the women. The 
boys lie down, and their new hcards and hair arc torn from their 

Among- another tribe there are three ceremonies: the first very 
simple, where the boys are merely carried away from the women and 
blindfolded. Here iJie Witama must cease using their natural voices, 
and not spcalc above a whisper for some months and perhaps a year 
or two. The initiates of the second degree wear a bcll-shapcd apr>7n 
and can marry, although they arc not yet warriors, for they have not 
suffered sufficient pain to take their full rank. They stili bear the 
tri\-i3l names Riven them by their mothers. In the third ceremony 
they are taken to a secluded spot, covered with kangaroo skins, laid 
out on a platfnrm of boughs, while each lad sucks tlie open vein of 
an adult and is rudely (.ittoocct with broad gashes, that arc pulled 
opened by the finjrcrs as far as possible. Their faces and upper bodies 
arc blackened, and they are again enjoined to whisper, and given all 
sorts of advice about hunting, etc' 

In New Zealand there seems to be no definite ceremony of admis- 
sion to manliood. The tattoo is a sign that it is done ; but there seems 
to be a long process, extending over years, which can not be consid- 
ered an initiatory riif, likt thoiie of the Australians, 

.■\ccording to J. L. Holmes,* the lads of the Papuan gulf are in- 
itiated by being first isolated in the eraro or clubhouse till their hair 
is grown to its full length. Their bodies must not be exposed to the 
sun, and they are subject to several tabtKis. The bull-roarer is shown 
and explained, and masks play a great part in the more important 

In Korea puberty and betrothal ceremonies often coincide, and the 
ritualists of that country celebrate these events by elaborate formulae, 
implying that the full responsibilities of manhood are assumed. Three 
days before, the head of the clan must announce the approaching 
ceremony to the tablets of the ancestral temple. The day in ancient 
times was chosen by divination. When capped, the boy adds a new 
link, says Sandis.* in the chain of descent. Even the tutor was once 
dioscn by lot. and he must be virttious and well versed in the cere- 
moin'al law. Besides the black paper cap, twenty other objects — belt, 
embroidered shoes, hood, cowl, cord, trays and tables, dried meats, 
horn spoons, etc. — are exactly arranged in a room partitioned from a 
larger h.-ill- All the relatives, in ceremonial or holiday dress, are 

* J. G. Wood : Natural HJilury uf Man, vul. ii, p. 76 et iiy. 

• Na.tur«, October jo, 1901. 

■The CiLp|>m(( Ceremony of Korea, by E. B. Siuidu, M.D., Jour. o( the An- 
tbropulo^ical loM., May, tStjH, p. 525. 


p-ou[>ed in a prescribed ord<!r, and a tutor, prompter, ami nssisinnt in- 
vest with the virile cap and cowl, and invoke three blessings. Liba- 
tions, a new name, salutations, genuflections, presents, etc. follow. 
Ttie ceremony for girls i» somewhat similar, and is called tying of the 
hair, with jackets, corscis, a new name, and presentation in ihc ances- 
tral leoiple. 

Nearly every Buddhist boy in Burma becomes a monk for a lime 
ilMfore he is fourteen, according to Fielding Hall, lakinj; the vows of 
'^chastity and poverty, but always for a limited lime, to be renewed or 
not at the end of the term according to inclination. 

Professor E. Waslilium Kopkini;, of Yale, writes me. May i6, 
1903, of ancient India : " There is only one rite connected with puberty 
by inference. That is the Upanayaria, or adinissiuu into caste, when 
a cord is bound around the boy at ages from eight to twenty-fnur 
years. It seems lo be the same as the Avestan circling with a holy 
cord at fifteen years, and for this reason, with Ihc wide-spread analogy 
of some such ceremony, it has been connected by ethnologists (L'P- 
pert. Cuhurgcschiclne, vol. ii, p. 320) and by Oldt-nberg (Religiun 
des Veda) with a puberty rite, though in Hindu form il is quite made 
over into an introduction of a boy into the study of the Veda and 
admission into caste privileges, at ages according \o caste. There is 
no other rite at this time, and this is recognized as a puberty rite, 
more by analogy than by inner cvidcrcc, since all reference to inibcrty 
is lacking in the firahmanical rite, and which only in the secondary 
stage of the literature receives recognition. The earliest Veda has 
absolutely no reference to anything of the sort. It appears to be a 
faint survival of the old rite, much moditied through the influence of 
ihc caste system. Latin literature, so far as I know, refers only to this 
rite and has nothing new, except that at this epoch the (warrior caste) 
boys at sixteen were admitted into the rank of warriors after proving 
their ability at a joust of arms." 

{<■) Africa. — Frazcr tells us thai among the Zulus and neighbor- 
ing South African tribes when the (irsl signs of puberty appear in a 
girl ihe must hide, not be seen by men. cover her head, lesl the sun 
shrivel her, and seclude herself for some lime in a hut. In New Ire- 
land girls at this age are confined for four or hve years in nmall 
cages, kept in the dark, and not allowed to set fool on the ground. 
These cages are cnnical. ten or twelve feel in circumference and 
seven or eight high, made of pandaitus leaves sewed (i^ht. and three 
feet from the ground. The cages are very hot, but clean, and the 
g;irls are taken out once a day to bathe; in these cages they remain 
nntil ihey are taken out to be married, and attend the great feast 
which is a part of this ceremony. Poor people can afford to keep 
tlieir daughters thus shut up for only a few weeks, but the time in- 
creases with wealth and station.' I'he Borneo girl is also shut up 
at ei^l or ten; none save a slave waitress nnist sec her, not even 




her family. Sometimes she remains here six or seven years, doing 
handiwork. Her body growth is stunted and her complexion becomes 
waxy. On comtni; out she is »hown sun, water, earth, flowers, and 
trees as if she were new-born; the great feast is held, a slave killed, 
and she is smeared in hie bl(>od. In New Guinea, Vancouver, Ceram, 
and among s{)mc';m trilit's, girls arc isolated in cells or huts for 
periods of varj-ing length. Commonly the longer she slays the greater 
honor to her parents. Hoods and veils are worn, that the san may 
not see her. 

" l-'roni the age of eleven lo ihineen among the Pygmies,' begins, 
for individuals of both sexes, a period of abstinence called akayaba, 
which for the young girls extends nearly to the lime of their mar- 
riage and for the young men to the time of puberty. While it lasts 
Uiey can not eat turtle, pork. fish, or honey, that is to say, the food 
ffjmiing the siaple n( their usual diet. They must also abstain from 
the use of certain delicacies, such as the meat of i^ana, the larv^ of 
a large beetle, etc. Tlicy may, however, satisfy ihcir hunger with any 
other native dishes. This kind of taboo can only be removed by the 
chiefs, who keep it in force until the time when the candidates have 
given sufticieni proof of their perseverance. 'ITie akayaba comprises 
three periods, named from the three principal kinds of food tabooed 
— the meat of the turtle, honey, and the fat of pork kidneys. At the 
expiration of lite time a feast is celebrated, during which the neophyte 
must observe silence, deprive himself of sleep for twenty-four hours, 
and then with ceremony cat one of those dishes, the use of which is 
henceforth pemn'ited him. The ceremony closes with a special <lancc 
reserved for these kinds of initiations." 

Among the Bechnanas, when boys are admitted to manhood at the 
age of about fourteen, Ifiey are stripped and stood in a row opposite 
an C4]tial number of men, each with a long torch and supple switch. 
First they dance the odd Koha, and each boy has a pair of sandals on 
his hands. At intervals the men put certain questions to the boys con- 
cerning their future, when they are admitted to manhood, e. g., " Will 
you herd the cattle well?" "1 will." says the l)oy, lifting his san- 
daled hands, The man then strikes with full force at the boy's head; 
the blow is received on the sandals, but the clastic rod curls over 
with such force as to make a deep gash on his back from twelve to 
eighteen inches long, from which the blood spurts as if it were made 
with a knife. The lesson of cattle guarding is thought thus to be in- 
cradicabty impressed, "Will yon guard the chief well?" etc., and 
other questions are repealed through a long series. The boys must 
look happy and continue to dance through il all, though their backs 
arc scarreiJ for life, on pain of rejection. It may be renieniliered, how- 
ever, that where nudity is common the skin seems less sensitive. Only 
older and otherwise qualified men can lake part. These ceremonies 
arc kept very secret, and arc common to many tribes. At another stage 



of the rite boys are gathcrcti together every (cw years, under the com- 
mand of one of the wn& of ihc chief, and taken into the woods by the 
old men for some time. What take^ place is unknown, but they come 
back leao and scarred, and arc henceforth comrades and address each 
other by a new familiar name' 

"When about fifteen or sixteen years of age Kosa boys arc cir- 
cumcised. The rite is purely civil ; by it a youth is enabled to emerge 
fnaa the society of women and boys, and is admitted to the privi- 
leges of manhood. Its performance is attended with many ceremonies, 
some of a harmless, others, to European ideas, of a criminal nature. 
At a certain period in cvcrj- year, unless it is a time tif calamity or 
the chief has a son not yet ready, all tltc youths of a village who are 
old enough are circumcised. Thereafter for a couple of months or 
longer they live by themselves, and arc distinguished by wearing a 
peculiar head-dress and a girdle of long grass about the loins, besides 
having their bodies covered with white clay. During this period they 
have Ucetise to steal freely from their relatives, provided diey can do 
50 without being caught in the act. After returning to their homes 
they are brought before the old men of the tribe, who lecture them 
upon the duties and rcsponsibililics which they have taken upon Ihcni- 
selves. Presents of cattle and weapons are afterward made by their 
iriends to give them a start in life. A free rein is then given to all 
lands of immorality, without let or hindrance from their elders."" 

** Females," says Theal, " who arrive at the age of puberty are in- 
troduced into the state of womanhood by peculiar ceremonies, which 
extinguish all virtuous feelings within them. Originally, however, the 
Tery worst of the observances on these occasions was a test of self- 
discipline. The object of the education which a people like the Kosas 
go through is to make a entirely master of hiin.'iclf. He must be 
able to control himself so that no trace of his emotions shall appear 
on his countenance: he must not wince when undergoing the mosl se- 
vere punishment. In olden times a further test was applied, which 
has degenerated into the most abominable licentiousness. It will be 
sufficient to say that the young women who attend the revels on these 
occasions arc allowed to select temporary companions of the other 
9CX. and if they decline 10 do so the chief distributes them at his pleas- 
ure. As these pages arc being prepared, a Kosa chief, who is consid- 
ered one of the most advanced of his tribe in civilization, has come into 
legal coUision with the colonial authorities for distributing, in a dis- 
trict annexed to llie colony, a large number of girls in this manner." 

(d) Circumcision. — 'ITicre is some evidence that circumcision was 
common in the age of neolithic man, and it now seems exceedingly 
improbable that it originated with the Hebrews. It was practised by 
the priests of ancient Egypt, from whom Pythagoras obtained the rile. 

■ J. G. Wood: Natnrxt IliMoryof Mui, vol. i, p. 314 //.fof, 

• Huuny at South Africa, by George McCftU llieaj, London, 18S8, vol. U, p 




and by the PiTsians and Phcnicians. II i» common among the Turks 
and niDsl Moslem races, although not conmtanded by the Koran, and 
was adfiplod by Moliammcil for himself probably from a prevailing 
custom of ancient Arabia. It is practised by many of the abongines 
of Australia, the Mal^iy tribes, anil a number of the native African 
races. The best authorities now think it prevailed among ihe ancient 
Aztecs and perh.ips llie Peruvians, and among certain native stocks of 
central North America. While Andrce is wrong in calling it "a cus- 
tom which extends over the whole world," it is one of the most widely 
diflTuscd and persistent of all ancient rites. The medical and an- 
thrnpologicLl litcrfiturc upon the subjecl is now extensive, and Uiows 
great diversity concerning bolh the nature and the manner of the 
operation itself, the various instruments in this oldest of surgical proc- 
esses, the preparation, curative treatment, and the attendant rituals 
and ceremonials sometimes elaborated and exactly prescribed. Its 
symbolic significance is subject to manifold interpretations, and its 
hygienic and moral bearing was never so actively discussed as at 
{) resent. 

Circumcision is performed at almost every stage of Hfe; by the 
Hebrews at the age of eight days, by the Turks between the ages of 
six and thirteen years, by the African tribes south of the Zambesi 
from ten to fifteen, by most of the Malay and native American races 
at the same age or a little later, by other tribes just before or after 
marriage, or when a certain number of children arc bom, or on be- 
coming a soldier, priest, ascetic, convert, or at senescence. Dr. Re- 
mondino.' from inquiry among physicians, thinks it is extending in 
most civilized communities independently of race or creed, 'lliat it ts 
generally and essentially connected with pubcny. and that its habitual 
occurrence at earlier or later stages can be or should be accounted for, 
and indicates a secondary or derived origin, I think any careful and 
fair-minded reader of the literature will grant. My reasons for this 
view are briefly as follows ; where it occurs at the da^vn of adolescence, 
the ceremonial, the germs of which arc often as old as the custom 
it attends, is fuller, more prolonged, and more significant; and even 
where it occurs in infancy, the symbolism of the attending liturgy or 
ritual refers chiefly It) sexual maturity and function. Its transi>osi- 
tion to infancy also seems readily accounted for by reasons of prac- 
tical convenience. 

It thus marks the advent of youth to the rites of manhood, and is 
soinetimc<^ essentially civic, political, or social. It may signalize in- 
itiation into the secret societies or religious mysteries of the tribe. In 
some cases the ceremonies are mainly hygienic or psycho-physiologi- 
cal. Occasionally it is associated with gross sensual orgies, but tnore 
often, with higher races, the ritual suggests the higher rather than 
the lower life, both of which now become possible. A Madagascar 
lril)e regards circumcision as making boys into men. Without it, they 

■ History ot Cinumclsioa, by P. E. KvmoadiDQ. rhil&dvlphia, 1891, p. 346. 





din never become soldiers or govern. The ceremony includes meas- 
urement, sprinkling wilb water, and 3 formula, "He is nol » child, 
bat a man, br<-aKting a Mream: his nione>' tilU a lar^^e vault, his house 
is crowded with slaves, etc." Bechuana and Kaffir tribes circumcise 
toys in the early teens, and set them apart -for life as followers of 
one of the sons of the chief. They are taken off alone to recover in 
hul* built for the purpose. Meanwhile old men teach them to dance 
and interpret the wisdom of African church and state, while each 
youth composes a homily praising liiniself, is beaten, and later points 
with pride to the scars thus lefl as signs of the thoroughness of his 
eilucation. A Peruvian tribe wrap iheir yoiiihs in skins after the 
operation, give them prcscnis, and send ihcrn to hide in the forest, 
there to feast and fatten till they grow weary of idleness. In Aus- 
tralia circumcision is a very sacred ceremony, admitting to the rights 
and duties of manhood, marriage among the rest.' 

Besides the physiological aspect presented in Oiapter VI. this topic 
has or should be given a higher one. The latest treatise on the sub- 
ject tliat 1 have read urges that liie very first requirement of a cir- 
cumciscr should be "satisfactory guarantees of a moral life and con- 
stant maintenance of an honorable character." Although the writer's 
purpose is chiefly medical, this ethical reqniremenl is placed first, sug- 
gesting that llic symbolic character of the rite predominates over the 
physical in the Jewish mind, hardly less than is the case among Giris- 
tians with baptism or communion. From the lime of Abraham to the 
present it has been a sacred blood covenant with Jehovah. On ihcir 
piTt the Jews were to obey his commands and keep his law, and their 
promised reward for %o doing was that iht-y should be blessed in thetr 
seeil, which should be as the stars for nmltitudc. This is still the 
blesiing possible to those who nonnalize this pari of their nature. 
When the latter awakens, the need of contntl is most imperative till 
mtnrity is complete, and here this rite originally belonged, enforcing 
inhibition by the strangest physical and psychic motives. Well admin- 
istered, it combines the l>est yet attainable results aimed at by scores 
oi savage methods of enforcing chastity for a season by physiologi- 
cal tnd even mechanical restraints, with a Platonic, or. better, an 
csKfltiatiy Oristtan mode of spiritualizing and long-circuiting what 
li^ght be the love of sense into a sacrament, It is almost as if Jeho- 
vah'i chief interest in man and that of man in him centered about this 
biological function and was cemented just at the time of life when the 
cluf sin against self and the Lord becomes possible. 

II. Classical Antiquity. — No pcdagfogic contrast can be 
greater than that between barbaric rites like ttie precetling and 

' CircanKtcton, by A. B. AinuW. New Yurk McJ. Jour, February 13. 1886. 
Sec ilia ItSi. BcrgsoD, Tcrqucm, Bcrnhcim, Aniholdl, CUparide. Cbabaa, aad 




the motlc of inducting youth to manhood which was developed 
in classical antiquity. The latter stands in liardly less sharp 
contrast to modern methods, and every infonne<l and candid 
student of youthful nature and needs must ponder whether we 
of to-day have really gainetl more tlian \vc have lost, llie best 
Attic methods especially stand out in the golden light that in- 
vests this land with a perentiial and ideal charm. The glory of 
Greece is that it best represente<l and understood youth as no 
other age or race has done. It seems a bitter irony of fate 
that just tlie pedagogics that advocate and teach classical 
culture are not only dead to this spirit but liavc lapsed farthest 
from it to mere verbalism, as we shall see later. 

Few sulijects are more diflicuU or have given rise to more 
diversity of conclusion among classical scholars than the de- 
tails of the education of pubescent ami adolescent Iwys in 
ancient Greece and Kome. Authorities are fragmentary and 
contradictory; customs ilifFered in different provinces and pe- 
riods; the historical vahie of Plato and the poets, distinction 
between what was exceptional or habitual or merely theoreti- 
cal, and differences of rank and wealth arc involved. A 
Dumont ^ fur .\nica. and L. Grasbcrgcr* for all Greece and 
Rome, are our best authorities. Chaotic as is the arrangement 
and slovenly as Is the style of the latter, his work is a monu- 
ment of erudition, and seeks to exhaust all the original sources, 
although the author is needlessly wary of general conclusions, 
and- the incessant comparisons between Greece and Rome are 

' Ei«u *ur I'^iihebie atcique. Paris, 1879. 

'GnsbcTger, L.: Kriicliutig und Unlcrriclit im Itlusischcn Allenhum: WSn- 
inug. tid. Ill; Die F.])hcl>cn Bildnn;;, 1881. Sec aUo Giriurd, fjin] : L'^ducaiion 
Alhinicnnc ■« V* ei au IV" siftcle Avani J.-C; rnri*. 11189. Hermann; Ijphr- 
buch dw Griechen Pnval Alttrlhiims ; sd cd.. pp. 71. 369. IHttenli^Tjier : [>e 
ephifbis ktticJK ; Glitlingcn, 1863. Mar<jii«d! : lJa« rrivatlrlwii d«r Rtttnern, |856. 
Decker, VV. A. : Gallttt. See ulso his Cbarkle}. Krnuse : Gyninuiilt gnd Agonistik 
bet den Hellcnen. Schmidt. K. : Cesdiichie dcr Pidngogik. Krauw, C. J. H.: 
Geschichle dcr Eriiiehiing Iwi den Griechen, Eiraskcm. and R&mern; (latle^ iSjf 
Cape*, W. W,: Univcr*Uy IJfe in Ancicnl Alliens; New Vork, 1877. JoegOT, 0. 
II,: Lite Gymnaoiik dcr Hetlcnen; Slntlgart, i8!4i. Cramer, P.: Gmchtchle der 
BraieliuEiK tuid Unteriidu« im Alicrthum. a votii. : Elberfeld, 183a. Helfcrichi; 
Kraiehan|> uod Unierricht )>ci dtn Rtiincm. WVcte : Enichung und L'niem'chl 
bei den Rbmern, 1K54. Ussjnc. J. L.: Emehung und Umcrrichtswesen bei dn 
Griechen and den Komem 1 Allono, 1870. 



confusing. Tlic large features, however, stand out with some 


Higher education in Greece or the training of epheboi lasted some 
6ve years, or from the end of a period of more pri%-atc education to 
the beginning of the public life of citizenship with more or less for- 
mal induction to whicii the years of specific apprenticcsliip to teach- 
ers euded. Politics were rcgacdcd as the highest vocation of man, 
wbooi Arisloile defined as a political animal, and thus the maxim. 
Ron scholtt sed i-iitr discumis, was %alid in both (Ireecc and Rome in 
a very dirfercnt sense (hnn it is in a commercial and industrial age 
hke our own. Much earlier than now boys of .intiquity were brought 
iiitu close contact with nut only governmental matters, but were 
tratncil 10 become watchmen of the state and zealous custodians of 
ihe commonweal. The beardless agrtteioi from sixteen to eighteen 
Of more often to twenty were a third-class intermediate between hoys 
and men in the Greek scheme of Agontstik. In Rome the term pufr, 
boy, was best applied to the first fifteen years of hfe; and adulescens 
ig tubfiequent years, sometimes to tlie age of tliirty, but was often not 
ditliiiguisliable from juvenis. In Aihcns formal induction to the 
cphebic status came two years after puberty, and at eighteen, majority 
wit attained with the civic oath to bear arms for the fatherland, llie 
tpliebic period comprised the age from eighteen to twenty, and else- 
*btre from sixteen to eighlecn, and rarely the years of puberty, kebe, 
from fourteen to sixteen. In Athens youths were formally accepted 
a fpktboi at eighteen, and then were for two years watchmen in the 
■nburbs or at the frontiers as a sort of compulsory military service; 
4ty then look the civic oath in the grove of Agraulos. were inscribed 
*o Uic list of burghers, each in his pbratry or deme, and enjoyed 
iMre freedom and certain dispensations. Ttic oath was as follows: 
"I rill never bring disgrace to these arms, nor desert the man next 
TO in Ihe ranks, but will fight for the sanctities and for the common 
P^ both alone and with others, I will not leave the fatherland di- 
niniihed. but greater and better (by sea and land) than 1 received 
'L 1 will listen to those always who have the power of decision, 
udobey existing laws and all others which the people shall agree in 
"riiining; and if any one would nullify or refuse to obey them, I 
■ill ftot permit it. but will defend them, whether alone or with others. 
I will honor the religion of my native laud, witness the gods. Agrau- 
'«. Eiiyalius, Arcs, Zeus, Thallo, Auxo, and Hegcmnne." Of this 
Wli there were many variants, detailed comments, and explanations, 
Md the gods invoked were agrarian and military and not distinctly 
c{4>tbic, It was administered with ^olenul ceremonial. In Attica the 
h»ir »as festively cut, and in Sparta the hair and the beard were now 
left to glow. So in many rites of confiruialion in the early Qiristian 
QiHrch, 719 is common in pubescent initiations among sa%'.iges, the hair 
it sjffibolically cut or dressed. So, too, the ancient Persian investiture 



with the Rirdlc at fifteen is symbolic of becoming a warrior for Or- 
imizd, while in India a similar girdle ceremony signifies being twice 
born cr else ctiten'ng into a higher csste. In Attica the hair was of- 
fered to a mystic river god or some higher dcily, to whom perhaps it 
had been vowed beforehand. As festive hair-cutting is often a token 
of sadness or an ulTering to the dead, some have fancied here a symbol 
of the death of the old self as the higher life of the race is begun. 

The chiainys was the distinctive garniciit of the epUcbos. It was 
a short war-mantle of Thessalian or Macedonian origin. Its color 
was always black in the older, reflecting the serious character of 
nearly .ill earlier fesliviltes, liul white in the Roman period. Who- 
ever died at this age was buried in the ciilainys. Hardly less charac- 
teristic was the broad-brimmed traveling hat. and the shield and spear 
were the ephcbic arms. Ancient art often represents a band around 
the forehead and the right hand wrapped in the mantle, After this 
oath and equipment, the youth were introduced to the people by the 
hcralil, usually at llie festival of Dionysus, just heinrc the tragedy. 
after which they were conducted to the first place in the theater es- 
pecially reserved for them, where they were chaperoned by the soph- 
ronists. Thus the youth became at once a citizen, a soldier of the 
army, a member and voter io the popular assemblies, save in Sparta, 
where complete citizenship was reserved till the age of thirty. They 
were now ceremonially enrolled as either politai or scnoi. In Sparta 
the ephcbiii were oflicially inspected every ten days, and ranks were 
ordered according to drill a.nd conduct. In Crete cliief stress was 
laid un military and practical training and a little on literature and 
music, as in Athens. Everywhere, however, the institution of the 
ephebialc was intended to lay the foundation for a just and virtuous 
life. Grasberger (iii, 65) finds it in nearly every part and even 
province of Greece. 

Antique song, such an integral part of the education of Greek 
youth, was chiefly recitative and declamatory, but was not, at the 
same time, without features of elaborate ballet and pantomime. 
Words, and not music, led, and melody and rhythm were strictly sub- 
ordinate to the text, in niclic poetry music in this sense was an in- 
separable commentary, and the creative clement was entirely in the 
song of the performer. Instrumental music was a still later offshoot 
of song. The dance, too, was in a similar sense auxiliary and an 
art of expressing the verbal or dramatic content of a given theme. 
The choral rhythm was primarily orchestral and only secondarily 
musical : tiie gymnastic element was harmoniously welded to the dance 
as poetry to music, and the "figures" were expressions of the game$ 
of the pentathlon. " 'i'he musical man is a man of culture." and only 
grim Mars and Death were quite unmusical. Many plays and games 
were with beats and in rhythm. Ball-games, c. g., were the root of 
both agonistic and also of orchestral form. Even in battle warriors 
were controlled by tone and tact. Religious dances cclebr.'sting gods 
and heroes were no less common than profane. In Sparta the motto 



of ihe playgrounds was " Strip and join the play, or go." The 
standpoint ant) spirit of the profane orchestras was thai of the best 
and most vigorous folk-festivals of Europe, and that of the religious 
orchcslras was cognate with the mysteries of ancient and medieval 
times. Harvest and other agrarian celebrations (as described in Fra- 
Kcr's Golden Bough. Mannhardt's Fcldculte und Bauinkultus) were 
favorite nuclei for Imih^ but the profane was derived from the re- 
ligious, and not ince versa. Poetry, music, and dance were never be- 
fore nor since welded into such educative power over the human heart 
The true singer must be a godlike man, whose song must be, hke 
prayer, a mode of worshiping the gods, or a teacher who forms by 
his art the souls of youth. Plato would have songs for each age, and 
virtue was taught by the dance. With all these elements the com- 
pelling power of music over souls is illustrated by a wealth of legend; 
the martial Phrygian and the massive Doric music were thought to 
implant courage :uid tcniiierance, while the Lydian, Ionian, and orgias- 
tic services of the Muses were subversions of virtue. In the early days 
dancers sang, sharpened their minds, strengthened their bodies, and 
nvished beholders till even Solon would learn a new dance and ihcn 
die. Later not only instrumentation but song was delegated to others, 
sod dancing became more intricate. Love, anger, mourning, and mad- 
ness could be represented with such intensity that the postures and 
gestm"es were athletic culture ; there were few acts, t>-pcs of character, 
01 states of mind that could not be expressed by pantomitne, and all of 
Ifccse gave the best basis for philosophical education and for eloquence. 
So ludd was his hand alolie, the use of which was at first very 
Kcoodary to speech and sense, that Lesbonax was surnnmcd chel- 
riiophon. or " wise in gesture." and it was said he could make any- 
iiaag plvn to barbarians who spoke an unknown tongue. Nothing 
of aU that is lost in antiquity, said Buchholtz, would be more desirable 
to restore than the choral dance in the age of its glory in Greece. 
The prominent dances of the Spartan gymnopxdia were religious and 
Mtjonal. and perhaps began with festive parans to Apollo; hut most 
ot these were changed by the cphors after the defeat of Lcuctra. and 
fftebic dances became largely military and with pyrrhic maneuvers. 
B «)i)ch some think strophe and antistrophe were first introduced. 
The cults of Apollo and Dionysus were chiefly groups of these acted, 
wrdied. and sung dances. 'Fhus litcraltirc w-is t.iught, and arilhmc- 
'■c and physics were parts of music. There were also song contests 
Md priies. 

The substance of the literary education of Greek and Roman 
»'lo)tsccnts was the reading and explanation of the poets. Here even 
''ulory, astronomy, and geography were largely learned. Fortunate 
*« the poet who was recognized in the curriculum during his life, 
'H'i the mind was cast into hexameter and pentameter forms. Till 
Scion there was no prose, and it was long in becoming interesting 
"•4 dignified with good rhythm and periods. School and poesy were 
BXM ialimately unified, and prose was admitted late and with diffi- 



cutty. Not only prose, but foreign languages and trauslalioiw ar 
even grammar came rii ailcr tlic ^uphinis, and especially in Rome. 
realism ami such natural science as then cxisied followed after the 
Pclopoiintrsian war for the more mature youth. Tlic sophists con- 
tributed greatly to increaK- the subjeet-mattcr, the time and the ex- 
pense of adolescent education, and in Greece higher instruction began 
with them. They made ihinTcing. spealcing, and criticism vocations, 
and held that everything could be imparted by teaching, and every* 
thing could be proven and also disproven. A doctriHaire ethics took 
the place of the dying rchgioii^ faith, cleverness superceded convic- 
tion, learning supplanted creative genius, and, as in all such de- 
cadences of culture, adolescciils suffered first and most. Eloquence, 
which can only flourish tn a free state, for the existence of which in 
turn it isttseU necessary, and which is perhaps in the largest, highest 
sense the most worthy and elective way of obtaining and using [tct- 
sonal influence, once so central in Ihc education of youth in the best 
period of Greece and Rome, slowly lapsed to rhetoric, and even to 
eristics, dialectic and debate, and from this logic wns evolved as a set 
of rules of the game. Hietorical narration was often the first step 
and improvisation the last in the education of the orator. Imaginary 
objects and biluations were eulogized or blamed, and accusation, de- 
fense, monologues, suasion and declamation, hortatory, imprecatory, 
laudatory, casuistic, controversial, epidcictic, descriptive, ninrmotcch- 
nic arts, rules for the arrangement of matter, the classification and 
use of tropes, and a copious technical noziicnclature. were developed. 
The so-called myths of Plato are an unique educational device pe- 
culiarly fitting TO the adolescent mind as a mode of formulating or 
rather frescoing the unkiiown frontiers of human knowledge. Great 
principles that meet dec]> needs of the soul must be clad in fact, and 
can not be otherwise presented. Tlie cave and the conversion of its 
dwellers from the sight nf shadows to tlie sun; Er, whose soul visited 
the place and scenes of judgment, where also unborn souls choose 
their course of life; the two steeds, the one carnal, the other spirit- 
ual; Diatimn, AristopEiancb's tale of the origin of the sex; the devctoiK 
ment of the cosmos in the Timarus; the crises of reversion of all cos- 
mic processes in the Statesman; the culture history in the Protagoras; 
the story of the priest of Sais and the lost Atlantis ; the other world in 
the Gorgias and Phxdo, all show consummate pedagogic art in the 
scientific uses of the imagination wliich Deusclile, Westcott, and Vol- 
quarsden have helped us to rightly evaluate. We can hardly mII them 
taken together a systematic whole, or claim that each expresses a 
definite and unique human instinct, as enthusiasts have urged; but 
they involve a clear sense on Plato's part at once of the limitations 
of reason and of ihe urgent needs of faith. Plato's myths, it has well 
been said, arc rclalcd to his .speculation somewhat as legend is related 
to history, and are "individual expressions of universal instincts." 
Although the facts recorded never h;ipptnrd, they might h.-ivc hai>- 
pened many times and at many places. They are not prophecies, nor 



ire thfj- "a Creek apocalypse." They are not atltgories, myths in the 
cominort sense of that term, nor pious frauds. The folk-lore features 
of some of them are unified and overlaid with speculative meaning. 
They constitute a. kind of Dalonian theology, quite distinct from lus 
philosophy, with wondrous power to allay doubt. Had there been a 
Greek revelation we might almost expect it to take some such shape. 
So artistic a soul as Plato's tniist fill even the gaps of his scheme of 
things, where philosophy fatlcd. with poetry. With his doclrine of 
renuniscciices. these additions were not unlike restorations of, e. g., 
the Acropolis, or broken statues in a continuity as true as ihc human 
miod can yet devise. They arc what we wish to believe, and are 
therefore a broader and deeper expression of humanity and our com- 
iDon nature and mind than science or history has yet attained, and 
tbeir moving and edifying power is so broadening to the feelings and 
instincts that they may claim to he part of the true Bible of the heart, 
with power to make it more effective for good. 

The action of the best of these myths has a sweep that parables 
and allegories lack, and they strike deeper into the subsoil of ihe 
soul than the Platonic doctrine of ideas. Nothing is better calculated 
to ball reveal and half conceal the great ulterior truths of life and mind 
thai beckon us on, yet balUc at every poinL They arc utterly diffcr- 
m from the finished answers we give to the great nascent interests 
of adolescence, for they do not cause a sense of finality, but encourage 
the mind to press on. The best things are just beyond the solid limit 
of facts, were overpunctJlious agnosticism stops, and further growth 
ianental jiower and knowledge may advance us within sight of still 
■ funber glimpses and make the future .seem vaster and richer than the 
pit has been. This very attitude constitutes the true adolescence of 
Ac mind. From this sUindpoint ami with this conception of myth, 
TtTjf different we grant from that generally held, the resolution of all 
Oimiology into myth would be a gain and mark a growth in the 
Clristian con.«:iousness, would be not merely its revival but its rc- 
jmvnation, and the tedious and paralyzing problem of historical valid- 
iij- would be transcended by a satisfying ccnviction of eternal and 
praknmd psy etiological truthfulness. 

T1iik>sophy was tlic culmination of cphcbic education after Soc- 
fWs. .After the Persian war the entire nation turned to the dcvcl- 
opment of independent thought. This was the apex of education to 
^hieh ii had addctl a newer story, and was the best propaedeutic 
^tUiesmanship. The method of lecture and conversation was well 
idapted to secure participation, and both the personal pomp of some 
»f ihc sophists and the great simplicity and directness of Socrates 
tre extremes, both of which were pcd;igogically very effective. Or- 
piuzcd hi|;hcr instruction was established first with the founding of 
the Academy, and still farther advanced by the Lyceum and the Stoa. 
*»ch wiih a scholiarch at its head and each representing a large vol- 
VKof Imth tradition and knowledge. There were student fraternities 
Um] table companions, journeys together, rival parties urging, one 



the claiins of TKcbcur and the other o( Hercules, to be the chief na- 
tional hero and ideal of adolescence. The former, represented as in 
ihc bloom of eternal youth, and as Uie center of some of the most in- 
spiring sagas, was especially in Attica a favorite theme of school 
dcclamaiinn. The ancient stndcnt associations, the Theseidcs and He- 
raklciriac, no doubt resembled in many respects the Nations, Corps, 
Landsitmnnschaftfn, orders, fraternilies of the medieval universities, 
at least iti spirit. There were even excesses, hazing, competition of so- 
cieties for newcomers, regulated conflicts, sometimes real terrorism, 
broils, tricks, pranks, and practical jokes, sometimes dangerous to life, 
to say nothing of stipends, pensions, rules concerning students' debts, 
and for the regulations of drinking, feasts, and deposition ceremonials. 
Whether Schwarz is right in Ihc opinion that some sitident initiatioa 
rites now in use arc directly from consecration forms of the ancient 
mysteries or not, the customs of students have changed hardly more 
than their nature since the fourth and fifth centuries. 

iu the days of the Konian Empire, youth entered upon higher 
courses of sluily at sixteen, and studied from five to eight years. In 
Athens, courses began in the fall and continued with brief intervals 
till the middle of the summer. Some teachers devoted all their ener- 
gies to instruction and commenting on standard writers, and others to 
authorship, addressing chiefly posterity. Masses of manuscript ac- 
cumulated, many of which were midtiplicd by the transcriptions of 
students. The methods were catechising, disputation, and co\\oi\\iy, 
lectures in the form of both monologue and dialogue, esoteric and 
exoteric, but no very definite cnrriculuni was established. The true 
education of mankind in both virtue and knowledge was philosophy, 
and although its three parts — logic, physics, ethics — were recognized, 
it had not been rounded into a system sufficiently complete to be the 
basis of a uniform course. As schools multiplied, however, and as 
tlic field of practical acUvities at the same time increased, philosophy 
slowly seemed inadequate a.*; leading to and detaining the mind where 
there was everywhere only sky above and sea around and beneath, and 
law. medicine, and nature study slowly encroached till at last in Rome 
came the formal perwculions of the philosophers with the Christians. 
Gymnasiarchs, sophronists, paidonomoi. and ephebiarchs were all 
holders of establtsheil oflices tn the ser^-ice of adolescent youth, with 
very definite but navr not very well known duties. The last phase 
of the Attic ephcbiatc coincided with the degeneration of gymnastics 
and the corresponding change in the Hellenic character, of which 
these were both cau^e ■ind effect. 'Hie luxury that develoiicd with the 
Roman hiilhs ami ihrir association with the gymnasiums was one cause 
of its degeneration, .-\hcrrant practises In the education of girls 
was another. " Girls who studied geometry grew ashamed to dance," 
and women became erudite when the subject-matter of learning had 
become formal and technical and had lost its soul in dilettanteism. 
Religious culture, at first cardinal, later decayed, and t<deraiion taught 
to hold no creed. The cult of Apollo, which marked the highest point 



of religious consciousness among the Greeks, declined. With the 
aciiit of Roman power man was educated not as man, but to serve 
the state, and slowly but surely Greece and her influence faded. More 
than any other nation she represents the eternally adolescent. Hardly 
an important motive in licr hiatorj-. an institution in licr whole na- 
tional life, a monument of hot literature, or an iicm in the list of her 
very errors and vices, that does not in a peculiar and incomparable 
sense represent more or less direclJy the nature, ideals, and needs of 
adolescence, so that to exhaust what this land and race has lo teach 
ns concerning this stage of life, her entire story must be retold. Till 
Greece can be reproduced, fit educational environmcnl for youth will 
iM be complete, and in this fact we have a new justification of the 
advantages of the study of classical antiquity for youih and a new 
unifying standpoint from which to teach it. Without Mmic kmrnlcdge 
of her pncts, dramatists, rhetoricians, historians, philosophers, and 
h(Toes, modem youth is robbed of some of its opportunities, and, I 
would add, of its rights, and will be forever less complete than it 
•wild otherwise have been. Even a httle epitomized and general 
Vnowledge of the best of what is here oflcred, if properly impressed 
at the lit age. has a quickening power that is simply marvelous. 

Bodily and not mental training was the center and beginning of 
ill In Sparta, the care and development of the body was the chief 
htincss of life. Grrccc gives us a new creation of education on a 
(jiysical basis. To train the intellect without training the body, not 
lo mention its education at the expense of the body, would have 
x<nticd an abomination for health, morals, and religion. To sit 
much was bad, and " lo have the hands and feet soft and the rump 
lunl from use" (Seneca) was a disgrace. The great games were in 
fccmr of the gods. All who threw the spear, ran, or leaped did so for 
'he greater glory of tk-Jly. The very n.-ikrdncss of ihc alhlelc was a 
ijmbo) of sacrifice, and victory was by special divine favor. Youth 
wrc more temperate and less passionate than if obliged to sit all day 
intkiscd spaces. One strong impulse to poetry and to .statuary was to 
ptrpetnate athletic victories in slory and fonn. The mind was edu- 
atoi so that it could take care of and control the body, but body 
inining was the best mode of mind building. The Greeks held, as 
*e Turners claim, that man is whole and entire only when he plays. 
liUKS, of which Gr.^:<bergcr gives a list of scores, many of which 
fcitd Greece as iintransfcrably close as some games of the great Eng- 
Klhldiools 6t their form ot g.-ouud^ and buildings, were a dominant 
fuODO of the Greek mind. The Trojan heroes intermitted their war- 
firitoeclcbraie them, as did Xenophon's Ten Thousand their marches. 
They were played in old age, and future life for the Greeks provided 
(■rumes. Play is the poetry of life, more truly humanistic than Ht- 
*Httire itself. The history of motor culture shows, as we saw in 
^iLpter III. that the neglect and decline of plays and sports and that 
(■'physical education go together. National growth and decay rest 
vftn this basis, for nations rise and fall as the body is well dcvel- 



oped or neglected, and the slabiliLy of culture depends upon the same 
condition. To try to educate the mind apart from the body is an ap- 
proach to the dark ages and asceticism where this basis was lost. 
Starting with the physical, education naturally passes from this fun- 
damental to the more accessory mental unfoldment. Indeed, the best 
test of the value of body training is its effect on the higher culture, 
for which it opens new possibilities. Tn fine, we have in Greece a 
new creation of education on a physical basis with all the new possi- 
bilities of culture, the sense of which was never so well developed as 
in this land of its origin, where also the higher education was bom. 
This made its unity and harmony. The " good chest, clear complex- 
ion, short tongue." which was AHstophaties's charaaerization of the 
ideal ephebos, was due to an ideal blending of nature and art, im- 
agination and reason, passion and logic, heredity and training. The 
vitality of the ideal is shown by Its persistence as the chivalric con- 
ception against the monastic down the Middle Ages. The knight's 
Ideal was not unlike that of the young Greek, *" to fight eye to eye," 
and we can not refuse sympathy with ihc hero of many a joust who 
lamented that all the craft and prowess of the best-trained cavalier 
could be overcome by so much of the newly iavented black powder as 
could be put in a woman's thimlilc. 

lie state which claimed the Greek youth at eighteen was not so 
a camp or barrack as a pedagogic province, such as is described 
in WiUielin Meister. It was a kind of university, where citizen- 
ship was a baccalaureate degree, and its great men a faculty of sages 
not so remote from youth as not to he its inspircrs and mentors. Till 
Plato's educational state and Aristotle, no one had suggested a state 
program. Lepelletier has urged that all should be educated by com- 
pulsion, but that instruclion should l>c reserved for the fit few. In 
Greece nothing was* olilig.itory. There was no danger that the bud- 
ding soul would be crushed by the mass of literature, science, and his- 
tory forced on unwilling mind.<i by a kind of mental rape, for booktsh- 
ncss was abhorred; but nowhere was curiosity bo intense, all-sided. 
and universal. None have so understood or so loved adolescent youth 
as the Greeks, so bemoaned ihc death of those rarely endowed, or so 
admired their bodi<?s. so sympathized with their souls, so loved to 
teach and incite them to noble dcc<ls. Even military duty was almost 
a gacraniciit for iiieniliers of the ephebic colleec. All this freshness, 
lest, enthusiasm, and naivet^ of youth impelled the Greek mind to live 
no lunger in a world of twilight knowledge, but to push on to en- 
lighten and clear up mental vision by the greatest effort the human 
spirit has yet made to solve anew the problems of life and death, and 
which has added new dignity to human nature. All is to serve and 
advance the kingdom of man. The musician who did not strive pri- 
marily to make men better by his art, hut sought merely to please the 
many, was condemned. Theocritus, Virgil, as well as Plato and even 
the popular consensus of a higlicr stale of the human race, to which 
ideal our Sabbath was originally sacred, the customs of the Satur- 



nalia, the glimpses of Hyperboreans, vEtliiopians, and all the Ar- 
catlias. Golden Ages, and millennia seem le!>s dreamy and more pos- 
sible in their best features when we feel most deeply the vitality of 
the sudden push upward toward a larger cittatc and higher dignity oE 
butnan nature nowhere &o manifest as in the eternally adolescent of 

The military character of cphebic education in ancient Greece and 
Rome has no anaEogtic in modern limes. Fighting involved the nse 
of arms of various sorts, and strength and skill in close personal en- 
counter, which decided battles, was the dominant idea in the palestra. 
TIm cpbebic regimen was a political novitiate and also a school of 
tactics, fortifications, camp life, and of parades and festivals. It was 
boy'breaking to civic life. Yonlh were watchmen and did police 
dnty, were guardians of (he sacred mountains, household gods, na- 
tional treasures and palladia, and had patrol duties, often changed, 
to that in their wanderings much geography was leiirncd, and there 
«15 much night duty and in the dark, for even city streets had no 
lig^ls. In cxtrrrtic military need hoys of sixteen could be called to 
aciial war. and in general the duties of Greek were not very dif?cr- 
tnt from those of Per&ian youth as described by Xenophon, although 
ihe latter held hunting, with great system and detail, to be the best 
prtparation for war. Most smaller Greek states had athletic excur- 
nocis and traveling marches, and sometimes even mimic warfare, to 
KUOD the txMly and soul of youth, and an outdoor life of action was 
^o&t universal. Fighting in full and heavy armor, hoploniachy, 
whi<h Plato praised as a noble an, came somewhat later. Only while 
ibt Greek national character was developing was the institution of 
lilt (phebiaic seen at its best, and with the beginning of the decliae 
it 31 once began to show signs of decay. Special military exercise* 
ueOckcribed, as stabbing a po^t, shooting with the bow, hurling spears 
«f various sizes and forms, slinging, fort-fighting, and several styles 
of wrestling, leaping, ami niniiing. These and fiber cxert'iscs had 
•ftOi as their goal and motive future participation in the pentathlon, 
*kt)i was variously composed at difTcrent periods of Greek history. 
Thtn was also special training in swimming anri nnutics, as rowing 
ud tailing, and riding and driving, preparatory to chariot -racing iti 
Aedrcus and mimic l)att]e3. 

Uusic, the orchestral ciilttirc of adolescence in Greece which sup- 
picaKQted the athletic training, making a harmony of body and mind, 
btfu In ancient times with the culture of the sages and the lyre and 
P^ Music was not yet independent of words, but, together with 
ECStere, dance, and processionals, rccniorccd and " sweetened " .ipcech. 
AiDOng the Romans, the end of the period of education at about 
Wventecn was marked by a change of costume. Free-born boys and 
pHt wore the toga pratcxia. of Etruscan origin, with a Imtad pur- 
ple ttripe. with the bulla aurca, a spherical ornament made of two 
concsve gold plates and containing an amiild. Later the rhitdren of 
the ricli, or bitUoti, also wore it. It was suspended by a baud around 

^H 258 THE PSVaiOLC «tftf5CENCB ^| 

^^H oped or Dcglected, and th 

^g0UtKj. About the end of 

^^H condition. To try tu cdu<. 

^k^^ the all-white toga of 

^^H proach to the dark zga. 

■^m <•» assumed in its place. 

^^H Starting with the physJca 

1. ^{fctermined chiefly by the 

^^M datnental to (he more accc-.- ^mA year, Nero, Ccrnimodus, | 

^^H test of the value of body 

K «ge of eighteen was plena 

^^H for which it opens new 

:^iK <fid the Roman jurists fuc 

^^H new creation of educitv 

^^« tfer fourteenth year for boys 

^^M bilities of culture, thc 

^^Motal was usually at the fes-< 

^^M in tliis land of its on , 

lew toga libera, the juventus 

^^H This made its unit;r a 

•jc iHsigHta f»crilice, especially 

^^H ion, short tongue," vn 

learth as a gift to the house- 

^^H ideal cphehos, v.:\- 

_^ MW called Vistic^ps or iuvcstis, 

^^H agination and re; 

.^ went to the Forum. This was 

^^H vitality of the id' 

«i«a3 called lirodnium fori. The 

^^H ception again&t 

-^er^ to Jupiter and Lihcr, and the 

^^H ideal was not ur'.'^ 

X 3Tbal list of citizens by an aedile 

^^H and wc can not 

■■■^ ^ ^acBg the day was closed by a rc- 

^^H lamented that al 

^^^i^iMe, and with some of the features 

^^H could be ovcrcotiH 

- jure gifts and entertainments to 

^^H could be put ill 

-iruction provided by ihc parents 

^^B The state wh" 

. 't entirely lo the youth himself. 

^^H much a canip or 

, :.c for his acts, but with complete 

^H in Wilhcltn 

.. responsjljility. Adults no longer 

^^H ship was a 

rtserve in his presence: he could 

^^H not so rcmo^ 

licipalc in games before fnrbiddcn. 

^^m Plato's edu<:, : 

.^r«i a military or a legal or forensic 

^^H program. 

-ary service by ilitc youth was not 

^^H pulsion, but ' 

1 in'uiin or contubfrnalis in a gcn- 
■ lie and declamation had some 

^^H Greece notlij 

^^H ding soul 

UK apprenticeship and instruction 

^^H tory fur. 

- Jt least a year was customary, A 

^^^ nesa ^ 

"^BK *» * symbol nf the right of might and 

^^H and mil ^ 

^^ vHwcially on parades ami in triumphs. 

^^H as the "^^ 

^ testo«al of a horse was a token of cleva- 

^^H admired ^*' 

^MiUAKin of it a sign of expulsion; so with 

^^H 8< 

,,r*- The sncranient was the regular oath 

^^H a 

^j Ae jusjuratidum was a camp oath made 


^j^ The strictness of military discipline 


l^yrcat. and they must faithfully serTC the 
oA To be a Roman soldier was a high honor. 

^^L ]igl>^ 


»«wf were full Roman citizens, and fidelity 
lasted later shaped the idea of a soldier of 

^^^^H will' 



^^^^1 niA' 

^^^^H the 


^^^1 idc 

they were quite as tnuch classic as 

^ -^^ t 




[Jtian in spirit. From the eleventh century through the 

la! periotl, lords opened schools in their castles for the sons 

ir vassalc. From the age of about seven to fourteen they 

(led ladies, and were taught obedience and courtesy as well 

;3(ncs, music, and religion. The young boy often chose a 

for his particular attention, so that his first thoughts were 

tfWKc of love, honor, bravery, and gallantry. The page was 
made a squire at the age of fourteen, and then had to attend his 
lord in battle or tourney, and keep lacar him to help or protect. 
,^fter seven years of this work, at the age of twenty-one, lie 
was knighteil with solemn and imposing ceremonies. A day 
and night were spent in fasting, prayer^ confession, and watch- 
ing, and in the morning, after a bath, the candidate was 
dressed in new white robes — a satin vest, embroidered in gold, 
and a leather collar over his coat of mail. The Holy Sacra- 
ment was given, and then he was taken to the church and ex- 
amined by the priest. If found worthy, he took " vows to be 
a brave, loyal, generous, just, and gentle knight, a cliampion 
of the Giureb, a rc<lressor of the wrongs of widows and or- 
phans, and a protector of lailics *' ; then tlic priest, after bless- 
ing his sword, hung it about the new-made knight's neck. The 
etremony was completed by handing him his spear, helmet, 
shield, and spurs. Then the prince or king who gave the honor 
of knighthood to the youth struck him on the neck with the 
flat of his sword, saying, " In the name of God, St. Michael, 
and St. George, I make thee a knight; be valiant, courteous, 
and loyal." 

The youth's mind was saturated with tales of knight- 
cnrantf)-, of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, 
Mdthe Quest of the Holy Grail, and taught the old Teutonic 
love of women, arms, and the gods. This system constituted 
perhaps tlie brightest spot in the dark ages, produced charac- 
tm like Bayard and Sidney, and the ideal of a gentleman, 
until the invention of gunpowder and the appearance of Don 
Quixote gave it its death-blow. 

IV. The Jewish and Christian reugions have always 
recognized the critical nature of this e[>ocli and its peculiar temp- 
tations and invoked the aid of transcendental motives before m- 
telligence and self-control are able to cope with the strong new 




the neck, nml 
the sixtvciiil) ^ 
manhood, r-,,.. 

Just whfTl li 

father. I.;. 
ami Car;n- :" 
the lowc" 
and of il' 
tival of . 
laid (tiT - 
the I'l!-" 
hold •^■ 
accmi ' 
a syii ■ 
pnii-i - 
of : 



- Tence a religious majoiity is 
r;'- "-lie young become members 
c:: as of tbe home, and parents 
■ titration in the further nurture 
^ m.I rites that follow, which I 
. iiave not only a profound re- 
peal, psychological, and peda- 

"S 'js little concerning the special train- 

•: -jen vision had been sealed up because 

•e '.^ttice of prophet was first established 

.;!. :hrice called in the night, who forc- 

. . fl: and his house, and became the pio- 

,. -cr of the school of the prophets in which 

T ti;:Ted its highest expression. The picture 

^.s- iiscussing the highest themes with the 

__^i:-is dl once the care of Jewish training and 

..-•.'It of the soul at this age to fundamental 

^ ..v!i questions and insights. 

. .i<vj.y5 attached the greatest importance to 

,.-.1 in their sacred writings,' the oldest form 

: '.i-tjvah or son of the commandment, did not 

■t: i.'urteenth century, but is still observed by 

,. '.\. Aorld over.* Up to the age of thirteen the 

., .- Tis son's acts, but now by this ceremony he 

_» !.i cr.'y. In a special form of benediction the 

liis-itrs responsibility from himself to the child. 

^. ■,■.!.• The Sabbath after his thirteenth birthday 

^ , -h; reader's desk, wrapped in his talith, and pro- 

„ x'tvv*^'-*'^'" o* ''^^ prayer-book. If he is a student 

,. ..!v.i :s advanced enough, he reads a few chapters 

,». •l•.v^■eti>^ portion of the day, and if a student of 

>*-«'■•** '■^" some knotty point of his own selection, 

"_^ .. ■><■ siTvice in the synagogue or at home after- 

~^.ivx .'t the rabbi. In any case he then becomes a 

■■ iit'^"*"''^"' w^^f* his own phylacteries at morning 

^ -i >t.Tv -'i Fi!ui-.«i.'n among ih* .\ncient Hebrews id my 

, J. ..■••it. "? ^-7- 

^^,^^ V] ill-:* :u-i,".:r.i V KaMi 1. M. Wise. Rabbin G. Goll- 

.....uv-i. Ni"*' V^rk; .iv..: j!>.' to Kj':>:';n IV Tliiliiisun, of Cin- 

^^: » >!.''-'■ »■■ i-'I-.Uai:.'. *-'. K'.eisiher. ol UosIor. and others; 

^ v-is^-i:' V.;i-iAV.;rf , f ir:;/;e*. most of which they have nametL 



•fr*-ict, and may be called in ihc desk to read the law or say the bene- 
diction. Girls attain their legal tnajorily a year earlier, but althoug^h 
they are carefully trained the event is marked by no ritual. The age 
snd the riles arc based tin Oriental iileas and conditions. 

This, however, all the reformed and many conservative Jews now 
regard as a soulless, vvoni-out tradition of rabbinism; they hold that 
the age should nol be fixed, but that il depeiids on the capacity of the 
child, and should be generally later, setting thirteen as a suitable min- 
ilDum age. The new forms of contirniation were first practised at , 
Casscl. in 1810. and have since siireatl for decades, not with- 
out much opposition, as a servile imitation of (.'brijliantty and for- 
ago to the spirit of Judaism. At first the new ceremonial was per- 
formed not in the synagogue, but in the schoolhuusc, not by the 
nbbi. but by the teacher, and on boys only: it was first performed in 
AiDcrtca by Dr. Max IJIicnthal in New York in 1S46.' It is now not 
I ceremony but a kind of official conclusion of the training of the 
Sabbatli-school, the first public religious act of the child, inducting 
him to lull and complete membership of the synagogue and to a rc- 
li^on that is not mere legalism, a ceremony of acts, bnt " a religion 
flf the spirit whose mission is to realize the prophetic ideals of one 
God and one mankind." It is thus an impressive ceremonial, whereby 
Ac confirmants make a self-actuated profession of belief and declare 
their purpose 10 uphold the principles of Judaism. 

The earlier stages of jircparation for confirmation arc represented 
by graded classes, held on Sabbath mornings and sometimes during 
WMk-days, generally Uinitcd to children of members of the congrcga- 
liCTi, who enter at from eight to ten years of age. Each of the four 
or five grades in the best Jewish schools has its own room, the chtl- 
dm arc marked and promoted from one section to another, pass oral 
lad sometimes written examinations, and in all other respects the 
methods and principles arc those of the public schools. Part of this 
lime IS devote*] to the Hebrew language, as a bond uniting a dispersed 
ptuplc with each other and with their antiquities. The rabbi him- 
Hlf commonly devotes much attention to the school. Sometimes sub- 
ninlial prizes are offered to stimulate competition. The first year's 
work in the best schools is largely the biographies of the heroes of 
the Old Testament, the history of which is followed. The last week or 
two is devoted to post-Biblical history, mainly of the Jews, but includ- 
ii^ Christianity and Mohammedanism, and incidentally considerable 
general European history through the Christian centuries, with some 
attention to secular Jewish literature. The Old Testament is taught 
intensively and well, but mainly as literature, and the chief services 
of ihe Church arc also taughl in the Hebrew language. The relative 
absence of dogma is a chief feature of the work. The chief doctrines 
taught are: God, his unity, wisdom, goodness, justice, and fatherhood; 

' Sec Dr. Darid Philipson: Cnnfirmaiion in lh« Syiugngne, Cincinnati, 1890V 
and Rabbi L M. Witc: Essence oi Judaism. 


THE PSYCHOLOGY OF ADOLESCENCE's duty lo confess, obey, and love Ittm ; tlie immortality of the soul, 
and duties lo our fcllow-men, to self, and country. 

Confirmation classes are formed, a few months before the cere- 
mony, of rhildrcn whose mental and moral maturity is deemed suffi- 
cient. Here, besides a general review, the higher meaning of ihc 
chief movements of Scripture is impressed, and also the nature of 
Abraham's call, the signiiicance of Moses's Hfc and legation, ihc mes- 
sage of [he prophets, the idea of revelation, the meaning of the Jewish 
idea, its relation to its future, the festivities and the Ten Command- 
ments; passages of Scripture and ritual arc meniorired, and then, 
sometimes after a special examination, the postulants arc ready for 
Ibe ceremonial. These months are a season of probation, and any 
serious misconduct is followed by relegation to Ihc next lower 

The day wt apart for the ceremony of confirmation i» the Feast 
of Pentecost, on which Ihc synagogue commemorates the revelation of 
Uie law on Sinai, and also the esl:iblishmciit of the covetiant of Urael 
with God 10 be his chosen people. Confirmation is treated as a re- 
newal of that covenant. The children come and sit with their parents 
during a special service, considerably varied in different synagogues. 
Later they pass to the vestry and file in with the rabbi and school 
officers, to music. The sacred scroll of the law is taken from the taber- 
nacle and read. Tlicn follow impressive responses, prayers, exhorta- 
tions, and sermon, and sometimes flower offerings, symbolic of those 
of s1.iin victims ttpon the altars of old; .-ind ibcn, with benediction and 
chant, the purpose of which is to confirm tlic ancient vow of Horcb 
to serve God alone, the children are returned, p-Lst the open ark one 
by one, to their parents, who are told to lay on their heads, in sacred 
blessing, the hands that toiled for, guarded, and nursed them through 
infancy and illness. This, in ihc services where it occurs, is perhaps the 
most touching and impressive ceremony of the year, llie afternoon is 
sometimes spent with orphans in the asylum, for one or more of whom 
each class had perhaps assumed the responsibility, where they are en- 
courages! to express the first fniitH of the new life and feelings of the 
day in some act of charity, perhaps making presents of dresses like 
their own. so that the difference betweec poor and rich i< no longer 
seen, etc. 

These ceremonials have occasionally of late suggested to some the 
dangers of pomp and display, and have evoked protests that this is 
not an entertainment or exhibition, with brilliant receptions, vulgar 
display of presents, and extravagant dress. Such perversions seem, 
however, to be exceptional, and the predominant purpose ik to work 
on the inner and not the outer sense, to appeal in the heart, and to 
start religious currents in the life and mind. Vows at this tender age 
are generally disapproved. No creed is formulated, for Judaism is the 
" least dogmatic of all religions," but ihe higher vocation of man is 
to be fell and striven toward as a dim and distant goal. While this 
ceremony is not passed even by all the children of the congregation. 


it b earnestly advocated for every Jew by birth who has not apos- 
utized by deliWrate choice. 

In recent years post-ronfirmalion classes for further work are often 
formed for still older children. It is felt that white childhood is re- 
ceptive and credulous, and puberty is a period of doubt and reaction, 
Alt there is a higher and later standpoint of ripe, reasoned, and sct- 
Hed conviction beyond cull and form, and that ii is a mistake to leave 
diildren in the " Ftegeljahrf," when not only doubt but temptation 
n strongest. Such classes already exist in some places as an integral 
but kind of post-graduate department of the Sabbath- school. Here 
ike history of other nncient Oriental nations is studied, with some- 
ikiflg about antitiuilics and excavation, some philosophy of religion 
i»d comparati ve religion. Milton, and modern Jewish literature, with 
a view to counteract the crude infidelity which in our age is so often 
nnkly rife in callow adolescents.* 

{B) Confimiation is one of the seven sacraments of the 
Catholic Church, by which the Holy Ghost is received, which 
it is a sin for any parent to neglect, and in whidi, some tliiiik, ' 
centers the very hcan and soul of the best that is in Calholi- 


h is also often called a mission, and its inspiration in most Catho- 
lic treatises on the subject is directly traced 10 the sayings of Jesus: 
"Suffer little children to come unto me, and forliiti them not: for of 
lorh is the kingdom of God"; "Out of the mouth of babes and 
Ktddings thou hast perfected praise"; " Except yc be converted and 
Inotnc as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of 
htaven": " I thank thee, O Father, Lord of heaven and e.inh, that 
thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast re- 
vealed them unto balics"; "Whoso shall receive one such little child 
in my name rcceiveth me "; " Whoso shall offend one of these little 

' In a cnrioQS and levacd book, Leopold Ldw (Die Lcbensaltrr in det Jiidt- 

«&(■ Ulctmtur; SxegcdiD. tSjS, p. 4^7) compiles ftum andeot Talniudic kad 

Ubtt tonnn an Koount of how ihe Jews regarded and treated eacli Stage of Ii(«, 

ttd givci quite a fall accodnt of how ihe Katon vr boy l>ecaine a GinU/ or al(aii)«d 

> Und of prdiminary nuj'orily M pttbcny. The tigpt o! six, ihtfteen or fuurtmi, 

<*nt]r and th!ny-s» were especially marlced stadia lownid nuIDnty. In early 

tiBM* pobeny waa detcrniincd by indis-iJual sl^s of ripeness, bui teKuUttic leiiden- 

da bier leaded lo fix ■□ age and were sttracled to fourteen ns twice the ucred 

BiMlber leveo. Tlie Miskna and Cfmara diiTcred somewliat. bat >b gcDeral tb« 

boy of ddi age began lu acquire property riKhis. could make contract*, not, how- 

mr. iMBDoalbble, and ibe goods h« could own were Indicated. Ho coalil give 

lliwillljl as a wjliMH bat was not fully responslblv ai Inw lill twenty. The tiiual 

CoOofv preMrflwd new (ancdons tti the synaKogue, and (all rsligious accouatabilily 

ma (lowly developed a* a progressive emuicipntton. 



ones whicli believe in me, il were better for him tliat a millstone were 
hanged aboul his neck and thai he were drowned in the depth of the 
sea"; "Take heed that yc despise not one of these little ones; for I 
say unlo you, 'Hiat in heaven their an^eU do always behold the face 
of my Father which is in heaven." The diWnity of childhood as sug- 
gested in such passages is interpreted by the Giurch to imply a some- 
what mystte power (if deep interna! approprintion of symbols, rites, 
and even dognia, more akin to Wordsworth than to the modem meth- 
ods of secular pedagogy. 

The aije of confirmation differs. In Italy, where the mind develops 
very early, the lowest age ai which it may be received is fixed at 
seven. In France and Belgium children can not be confirmed before 
ten. In this country eleven or twelve may be called the minimum age. 
There must be no lime lost with the children. Early impressions sink 
deepesL As soon as they are able to receive the eucharist with a 
fair degree of appreciation the sacrnnient should be administered. 
Indeed, the priest, who alone has the power to admit, while having 
some discretion, is generally thougiil negligent if children of sixteen 
■or seventeen in his parish are not confirmed, except for special cause. 
Slated preparation is prescribed for deaf-mutes and even for the 
feeble -minded, for whom a so-called " fool's catechism " of the simplest 
and most essential truths is provided. Those who do not honor their 
parents, refuse to attend mass, eat (Icsh-nicat on Friday, steal or are 
unchaste, should be kept waiting, lest they profane tlie holy laUe. 
Childish lies, obstinacy, or lack of devotion should not bar ihetu from 
the chief source of help against their faults, which might be aug- 
mented by delay. 

The essential preparation for first communion and confirmation is 
a knowk'djje of ihe caLediisni. In insistinn upon this a» Iwsal, the 
voice of the Church has been practically unanimous from the time of 
Origcn and the famous catechetical school of Alexandria, and from 
Augustine, who consecrated the first years of his episcopate to com- 
posing his treatises on catechizing, down to Fenelon and tiossuel, and 
even to the present time. Whde there have been periods of decline, 
and eminent prelates have sometimes failed tu see its dignity and im- 
portance, men like Gcrson, chancellor of the University of Paris, 
found in calcchiiing children the chief source of comfort in their de- 
clining years, and by a decree of the Council of Trent every pastor 
was ordered to administer the catechism for children with care, at 
least on Sundays and other holy-days. This was speedily ratified and 
detailed by provincial councils and synods throughtmt (he world. Car- 
dinal Bellarminc devoted himseU with ardor to this work in person. 
Si. Ignatius botind himself with a vow to this office, and each Jesuit 
priest still acts for forty days as catechist when he liegins his charge. 
Xavicr. too. thus began his great mission, and Komilion and the found- 
er of the Ursulines devoted themselves lu it. The work was reformed 
in the seventeenth and in part recreated in the nineteenth century, but 
the catechetical traditions have been strong and constant, and there 



kas always hctn a body, never 90 large a& now, of devoted nans and 
priests who, as Plato's Republic first suggested, renouncing family 
tiei, have turned that same rich and deep tide of affecliun. which most 
spend on spouse and offspring, to thiB holy apostolate of childhood and 
yotlth, as their sweetest and dearest life-work in a way that has not 
only supplemented, hut qiitckcntd, instructed, and elevated parental 
love, and helped to build up the holy city of " Man-Soul " in the heart. 
It is to this tong-circuiling and sublimation of the sexual and parental 
instinct that I ascribe the entirely unique character that pervades the 
llbor and writings of the great child-lovers in Catholic Christendom, 
which merits the rcvcrcnl and prolonged attention of all who 
other systems tlian their own, to realize ideals, to learn Iheir 
igth and tfieir virtue rathi^r ihnn m cnnfnrm old prejudices by 
the more superficial defects, perversions, and failures. 
The catechism must be learned with great verbal accuracy, be- 
ausc it is the standard of religious knowledge. It contains sublime 
uiiwers, that children can be made to feel the sense of, " to every 
qccslton of interest to man." It ts a high philot^nphy of life, so Ht 
Old admirable that not one syllable of tt must be changed, although it 
b seasoned with much of explanation and illustration. It is often 
b^n festively, and the work is interposed with song and story. By 
Ac " billet " system children sometimes appear dressed as angels, and 
redie the answers as if thuy were just revealed from heaven. The 
Ws( catechetical tradition of the Church has hecn carefully preserved, 
lad is even now being developed more vigorously than for some ccn- 
tnrits. Tliere are several Catholic catechisms, but they differ only 
ia the amount of matter included, ranging from elementary work, 
TOntaining a few topics, to those of Dcharbo, Jouin. (jaunie, and 
Sdiouppc, which arc for the last year of study or for the post-con- 
fcnnaiion classes, now strongly advocated, and often formed. The 
catcthism of the Third Plenary Council of Baltimore is the American 
Kaodard. and is a pocket volume of sevctity-two pages. First arc 
iM chief prayers, to which some would devote the entire primary 
ynr. The chief topics in order, taught by questions and answers, are: 
the end of man, God, unity and trinity, creation, first parents, the fall, 
lin, tncamation, redemption, the passion, death, and ascension, tlie 
^ Holy Ghost, the Clmrch and its mark.s, and each of the sacraments in 
Alatl, vir.. haptism. confirmalion, eucharist. penance, unction, holy 
ordfn. and matrimony. Then follow mnss, prayers. c.ich of the Ten 
CoDwittndments in detail, the last judgment, hell, purgatory, and 
htaven. Somcdmcs the catcchuTnens are stimulated hy marks, rank, 
priies, examinations and charts, the bell and blackljoard. and the vast 
rrperlory of the many thousand lives of the saints, those arsenals of 
nrtae, the best of which are often calendared one or more for each 
day in the year, is sometimes utilized. The central theme of cate- 
chetical inculcation and also of early influences of the Church is sin 
and ibe divine and human instrumenialities by which its results are 
moved. Confirmation is a renewal by children of the vows made for 



th«ra by others in infancy at baptism, which meant purification from 
ancestral sin.* 

This work is done less comprehensively than in countries where 
there are no parochial schools, and it must be limited to Sunday. 
Often the work is more or lets graded. When the work of the regu- 
lar teachers approaches completion, special confirmation classes are 
formed of those thought fit, and the priest takes the children for a 
few months of review, and more intensive and extensive instruction, 
often twice a week. Just preceding the rite itself as a special prep- 
araliun for first communion, comes the retreat, by which children are 
withdrawn into the sanctuary of the soul, and which seeks for a sea- 
son of frnm two to four or five day-s to snatch them from the outward 
life and from association with other children, to brinu them face to 
face with God and self, and to impress them with the sense that some- 
thing serious and momentous is transpiring within, llie catechism 
has been learned, and the 60u] is tender and ripe for the deepest im- 
pressions as never before or after. It has many varieties, but in a 
true retreat, by a good leader, the children devote the best part uf the 
morning, afternoon, and evening to receiving the strongest impres- 
sions of sin. death, salvation, and judgment, but without undue fatigue 
or fear. Prayers, aihnotution, meditation, and sarnctimcs the noting 
of their impressions and experiences in individual books (a method 
said lo be full of suggestion for die instructors and of great present 
and even greater .••ubscqucnl value to the child, in keeping alive the 
freshness and purity of first religious emotion), special hymns, the 
sentiments of which are impressed and explained beforehand, care* 
fully selected and told stories of saintly heroes of virtue, and alle- 
gories, are all directed lo produce a silent revolution of the soul or a 
veritable conversion. They are told that Jesus is now passing, knock- 
ing at their hearts, nearer than ever before or after; that they must 
choose between good and evil, and declare in their hearts eternal war 
with sin. The exercises begin Sunday, and last till confirmation day, 
which is Thursday. Tlie battle with sin in the soul becomes most in- 
tense on Tuesday, especially in the afternoon, when sometimes the 
crucifix is draped in black and death is impressed as the doom of all; 
there are tears and warnings, test each child may not make a true 
communion, and the scrmoncltes to tht-m arc most austere and 
penitential. The suffering and death of Christ is made ohjective. 
vivid, and impressive, and the sejilimenit of pity which, deepened to 
pathos, is one of the most powerful sentiments of the soul, which 
after Emperor Otlio's death prompted many lo slay themselves for 
sheer compassion, the Church knows best how to utihze for good. The 

* [ h>ve correiponded with many emineni AmcncnD Catholic prelates, to wbun 
I Bin miKti inileblcO. uid liuve exanuncd mimy manunlt in swcraJ liinKuiL{[e», e>))c< 
dftlly ilioM by Kev. T. L, Kinkexd. M. Xocl. Mons, Dupcnloup, Kcv. D, J. Scholi, 
1, Roulof, a. I. lUlbunac. Father 'nnirsinn; anii uOicr workr- by R«V. A Ci 
MoTllmer, l.'Abbe Lwlen, M. J. Lavellc. etc 



director is sad and overwhelmed, lest llicir hearts be not really hum- 
bled, broken, and contrite. Eternnl salvation is al stake, and the hor- 
ror oi a sacrilegious commonion must be deeply felt. Each child files 
up and kisst* the crucifix, but at Hie evcninR service, after all have 
received absolution, all is joy. and the service is beautiful and grand. 
Pa« sins are pardoned, and ihey then and there begin a new life, 
thing divine has p.isscd over the soul, and each is restored to 


'lul before the ceremony of confirmation every child must make 
a general confession, covering all it can recall of its past life. Con- 
fosioQ is usually the Catholic child's first personal contact with the 
Church, and is commonly advised as early as seven or eight, because 
he can then sin and repent. While he must rather die than betray 
the secrets of adults, a good confessor must keep the confidences of 
thb tender age also strictly inviolate, and may he a hcnrlicpnt spir- 
itual father of childhood if he has the rare gift of keeping in s>Tn- 
pldietic rapport with it. Always, and of course especially now. al 
tbit chief confession of a lifetime, he will strive, first of all. while 
oerting the utmost care to ask do questions that may suggest error or 
m not previously known, to encourage each child to unburden his 
toBiciencc as honestly and unreservedly as possible. To acknowledge 
1 fault is to get it outside the better, inmost self, to begin lo loosen 
t barden, and to mult the old ego. If frank, the besetting sins arc 
wen, and the process of alienation begins. Real regret is almost sure 
to follow, and care is taken that it he poignant, hut nnt excessive or 
■ortiid, for remorse, always a feeling of doubtful utility, is not for 
thi* age. Wrong is deplored, bccau-'-c not only odious to a sinless 
bn*en)y Father, but as in the face of infinite goodness and love 
tovird each person. After dealing discreetly and tenderly with the 
Buotnt conscience, judging considi-ratcly causes and occasions of er- 
ror, and generating not only repentance but good resolution, penances 
*« ioipo^d. These are sometimes a given number of repetitions of 
pnyns, learning hymns, refraining from dessert for a lime, a brief 
Uij season of self-communion, acts of self-sacrifice or service, that 
4e fresh impulses to right may find some expression before they fade. 
IVniDce, too, must be administered with great wisdom and adapta- 
titm to the nature, needs, and surroundings of the individual child. 
Usdy comes the priestly absolution from past sins, and the candi- 
toe. pure and white of soul indeed, is ready for the ceremonial sac- 

The day of first communion and confirmation, on which children 
are to receive God in the cucharisl, and to first taste the. bread of 
Ufcb al the divine banquet of paschal communion, marks die epoch 
when God takes possession of thctr chastened souls. The ceremonial 
ii 3 very special one for Church and family. It must be brilliant, and 
•"ith much outer pomp. Synods have declared that it must be *' cele- 
liraied with all possible solemnity," for children's senses arc at their 
Jcecncst, and they ueed external show. After final iiistiruction con- 



cernin^ their part nm\ bearing during Ihc ceremonial, they cnler the 
church in solemn procession and kneel in a line, the girLs in white, as' 
a symbol of their new sinlcssncss, on the left of the sanctuary, and 
the boys, in their best and darkest clothes, on the right. There are 
sometimes certificates of confession. There are veils suggesting be- 
trothal to Christ and Ihc Church, candles reminiscent of tlie catacombs 
where the Church was cradled, and symbols of the true light of truth, 
their very wax, according to some lilurgists, being an allegory of the 
virginity of bees and of flowers, and the flame, of both the glory and 
suffering of Christ, and the altar, which has always been a table oa: 
a tomb. 

Only a bishop can administer confirmation, and he makes episcopal 
visitations for this purjiosc to each parish, at intervals varying some- 
what with its size. The pontifical vestments are the miter or duplex 
crown, the mozctta, symbolizing the light on Moses's brow when he 
came from Sinai, the amice or allegorical shield, the tunic, which re- 
calls the seaniles-s robe woven for Jesus by his mother Mary, tliat was 
not rent by Ihc earthquake of the crucifixion, and for which the sol- 
diers cast lots, the cincture of continence and self-control, the stole, 
since the eighth century rcprL-scnling immortality, and always to be 
put on with a stated prayer, and the cope, the significance of which 
has been lost: he carries the crozicr or pastoral staff, the symbol of 
his authority, He lays aside his miter, and turning from the aliar 
raises his hands in benediction. He (hen explains the nature of the 
sacrament, invokes all to make good use of its graces, and prays from 
the ritual that the Holy Ghost, the descent of which is the chief andl 
central end of llic ceremony, may rest upon the confirmed, as at Pen- 
tecost, with alt its fulness of gifts. Then, approaching the first boy 
in the line, he dips his right thumb in a golden vessel held by a mtn- 
istrant and containing chrism of oil and balm, the consecration of 
which by the bishop forms one of the ceremonies of Holy Thursday,, 
and anoints each, in the form of a cross, on the forehead, to indi- 
cate that he must openly profess and practise the failh, never be 
ashamed of it, and die rather than deny it, saying, Signo te signo 
erucis ft conHrnw U chrismatc salulis in nomine Patris el FilH el Sfif- 
itus Sancti. Then, making the sign of the cross over the person, he 
gives him a slight blow on the cheek to suggest that he must be ever 
ready to suffer all things for the sake of Christ, saying at Ihc sama 
time, Pax tecum. The assistant wipes the oil, while the bishop passe* 
to the next Like hnptism, confirmation calls for sponsors, but of late iai 
America it is customary to have hut two, a male adult for all the boyi 
and a female (or the gir]:s. The sponsor stands l>ehind and lays hi« 
hand on the right shoulder of each during this rite. While this cere- 
mony is often performed with low mass and hymns, it is better with 
the choir and organ of high mass, and comes after the three Kyries, 
the Gloria in excelns Deo, and Credo, with the ofifcrtory and preface; 
sometimes the Vcm Creator Spi'iius is here sung, and then, afttf^ 
the Sanctus, and the elevation of the sacred Host and the consum- 



malion of ihe eternal miraclt- of transubstantJacion. the acts of con- 
firmation arc recited hy the children, who at the siipriMiie moment go 
fonvarH and parUkc of the lilesseii iruchansl, receiving (j«d into their 
hearts entire, although under but the one form of bread, when the 
AgHUi Dei is sunp. Soiiieiinits another mass of thanksgiving- is cele- 
brated immediately afterward by another priest. The catechists then 
lead the children out of the church, where their parents await and em- 
brace them with tears, while priests and teachers return sadly to pray 
alone before the descried and silent altar. Often they are sent out 
later in the day to do works of charity while the dew of consecration 
is fresh on their souls. 

Many accessories are modified, and in large places supplementary 
wrvices are held in the evening. Vespers and often the Magnificat 
ire intoned with rcsponsions, a sermon is addressed to the children, 
idmonishing them to renew their baptismal vows, perhaps the for- 
mula of consecration is recited by boy» selected beforehand, and all 
lie formally recommitted to their parents, who arc charged to keep 
them as pure and religious as at that moment. Souvenirs acid often 
iymbolic presents arc given, very tastefully illustrated rHpIomas or 
ctnificates picturing the ceremonies of baptism, first communion, and 
confimiation, and there may be supplemcntarj' services next day. 

The young communicant has now received the baptism of fire, as 
(onnerly of water, and is under renewed and greatly increased obliga- 
tion to observe fasts and festivals, to frequent confessions, which 
every good Catholic must attend at least annually, and bs in a position 
ta receive by grace the seven gifts of the Hnly Ghost, which arc wi.i- 
^m, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of 
Ood, that he may bear in their due season the twelve fruits of the 
ipihl, which arc charity, joy, peace, patience, benignity, longanimity, 
foodness, mildness, fidelity, modesty, contincncy, and chastity, the 
Vines of which have been memorized in earty childhood, illustrated 
later in Bible stories and lives of the saints, and if Ihe proper stage 
of higher scholn-stic study is reached arc found still later to he the 
kasof instruction in the systematic theological ethics of Aquinas. 

To receive the sacrament with the consciousness of nnforgiven 
on would be a sacrilege, and for its worthy and fruitful reception the 
Mibject must be in a state of grace. Although confirmation and the 
•ork of the Sunday-school, all of which leads up to it, is the palta- 
fliiim of the faith which no child of Catholic parents must omit, 
there is 3 growing sentiment, especially in this country, that effective 
»al\ this is, the children must not be left at the dawn of adolescence 
tnliotil further guidance, and hence in many places societies of per- 
tncrance have been instituted, where studies of the ccck-siaslical year. 
Church history, selected points nf cannn law, hymnology, written ac- 
counu of festivals, and a better understanding of the orders, insti- 
tutions, and rites of the Oinrcii arc imparted, and each engages in 
works of bcncBccncc and additional retreats. Some have lately advo- 
cated so great an innovation as Sunday-school libraries, and urged 



that whereas the Church has hitherto hcen far more prominent than 
the Scriptures, a graded course be conducted in first-hand study oi 
both the Old and New 're&tamciits. which arc usually reserved from 
direct use by children, at least tilt these post-communion classes, which 
should be attended till marriage. The age of temptation to sin. it is 
well said, is not ended but just beginning, and the influence of re- 
ligion so well inaugurated should be sustained till character is set- 
tled. Sometimes these are called Christian academics, and there are 
first aspirants, then candidates, then auditors, and then full acade- 
micians, a title especially prized in France; there are conferences, 
debates, and honors, and various confraternities, sodalities, and clubs. 
Precedents of these abound, for St. Sulpice. St. Charles Borromco, SL 
Vincent de Paul, and many others, were devoted to this work in the 
past, and young people attended up to the age of twenty or even twen- 

In 1884 the three hundredth anniversary of the foundation of a 
Society of the Annunciation, which has multiplied in all Catholic 
lands under the title of Sodalities of the Blessed Virgin, was observed. 
These arc for adolescents, and there arc branches for either sex. The 
papal bull creating ihem refrained from prescribing details of either 
plan or purpose, so that there arc many local differences. Their gen- 
eral purpose is to quicken piety, charity, and personal purity of heart 
and life by increasing devotion to the Holy Mother, who asks the 
young to join their hearts day by day to a more perfect likeness of 
her divine Son. 'Piey are especially designed for youth from fourteen 
to twenty, but there arc branches for older youth in colleges, and even 
for children who are younger. Constant war against passion, an an- 
nual retreat, self-examination, chcerhilness. temperance, and religious 
offices are prescribed, and they have a special devotional manual and 

(C) In the Greek RtissJan Church, confession takes the 
place of first commtinton and confirmation, and occurs at about 
the age of eight. The many religious ceremonies of in- 
fancy in Russia require sponsors, one of which is usually a 
boy or girl of fourteen or fifteen, and this, as it is a solemn 
office, involves full Church responsibility. 

At the age of about twenty-four hours the infant is visited by the 
priest, who names it after the saint on or near whose day it was bom, 
holds it before the sacred pictures, and has the sign of the cross made 
over it and prayers read. In the christening ceremony, at the age of 
eight days, the young godfather participates, and provides and puts 
on the neck of the infant a tiny gold cross, which must nc%cr leave 
it. Baptism must be administered at the age of forty days. First, 
the priest, in cope, blows in the face of the naked infant three times, 



crosses it on the brow, lip. and breast, am!. laying his hand on its 
bead, reads llic prayer of exorcising the devil and all his hosts from 
ike boily and soul. The priest then asks the infant if it rcnniinccs 
the wicked one, and the sponsor, [ookiiig ti> the wcil where the sun 
Kis in darkness, answers. " I have renounced him." They then blow 
nd make the gesture of spitting at man's great enemy in token of 
hale and horror. The Niccne Creed is thrice repealed, and the spon- 
nrs say in responses that their young charge has confessed and be- 
lieves in Christ. After prayers the parents, even though they be the 
Czar and Czarina, leave the room, in token that the child is entirely 
left to its sponsors and godparents, llien, in full canonicals, the 
[inesi Messes the water by Mowing on it, moving his hand through it, 
tnd crossing its surface with a feather dipped in oil, symbolic of 
peac« and previously consecrated, and after a first anointment the 
diild is deftly plunged thrice completely under the water, tiaplism 
»f water is immediately followed by that of the spirit or the anoint- 
ing proper, which has its own litany and ritual. During the mass, a 
(mall quantity of wine is passed with a spoon into the child's mouth 
mi the lips wiped by an assistant. Eight days later the hair, the only 
offering an infant can make, is ceremonioubly cut in four places in the 
lorn) of the cross. All these rites are detailed and performed with 
BMsic and prayer, paid for with small fees to the priests, and if the 
niolher wii^hes to be churched, the baby's face is pressed against a 
iilver- covered picture at the altar, and from behind the screen the 
■orda arc chanted, "The st-rvani of (Jod, A. B., is admitted to the 
Qiiirch of Christ." The sponsors then assume, at least formally, a 
mota responsibility, and must therefore set worthy example and give 
■ijc counsel. 

Communion in one kind is observed semiannually thereafter by 
each child, who attends church and learns prayers, which arc far more 
nwncrous than those of the English Church, and more difficult in the 
Slai-onic dialect, also the Lord's Prayer, the NJcenc Creed, the Ten 
CoDunandtnents, hyiims, and stories from the Old and later from the 
'Vcw Testament. The expressions of piety are so formal and so many 
that the children, who are imitative, and who arc brought up in an 
lUnosphcre charged with them, seem exceptionally religious, and 
tht parents' constant fear of their remorse and of its conse<jucnces 
'f ibeir offspring, should they die unshriven, is so great that the 
pitisurc of the home for early consummation of church meniber^ip 
bat crowded the first confession and full communion in both kinds 
to the unusually early age customary here. The significance of these 
■ofant rite» here is that there is much reason to believe that many if not 
"fii of them were once pubescent, and have been gradually removed 
lomearlier age, like circumcision among the Jews. The priest comes 
'"the house twice a week for a month or two, where there are chtl- 
itta at the ages of from seven to ten, to explain the simple catechism, 
'*Kh the rudiments of sacred history, and interpret the child's prayers 
^ hymns. This special preparation may begin at Christmas and 


last till Lent, during; which the ccwmonjr mu*t occur. When the 
feasting week of carnival festivities changes to the Lenten period. 
when no food ever so remotely connecletl with animal life can be par- 
taken, there are rhrcc days of dcvoiional preparation, with early rising 
and frequent daily church services. On Friday, after vespers, each 
child goes alone behind a screen in the church corner, where the priest 
awaits him. and after prayer exhorts that the confct^sion be complete, 
questioning each touching the chief sins of childhooti: some confessors 
arc imhilgent, others severe, and most have special lines of misdeeds 
for which they question. After this, if tJic confessor does not find 
any of the one hundred and fifteen crimes and overt sins which dcliar, 
and a real desire to lead a new life is apparent, the priest lays his 
hand, wHh the end of his cope beneath it, on the ncviliaic's head, as 
a token that he is now under the protection of the Church, and pTx>- 
nounces ahsohition. praying God lo pardon, as hi» minister now does. 
Each is signed with the cross, kisses the crucifix, and leaves a fee and 
a candle. This is usually in the evening, and the penitents bathe, re- 
tire early, and lake no food till after communion at matins next day. 
In the morning, not only children but parents array themselves in 
their best, new <lrcsse5 for the occasion being customary, and kiss 
every member of the household as a token of good-will. At church, 
the sacred elements are brought in with a, solemn liturgy, the re- 
cipient repeats slowly after the priest the articles of belief, slating the 
nature and meaning of the sacrament, and a morsel of bread, moistened 
with wine, is placed in his mouth with a spoon. He then rises and 
passes lo the reader's table, takes more wine and water, to rinse and 
clear his mouth, and eats a liny loaf, from the side of which the part 
used in communion had been cut with the sacred sjioon. At home, 
congratulations and fca»ting follow, with vespers later and final mass 
next day. 

(D) Confirmation by first commttnton is required of all 
children of the Episcopal Guircli in Englartd and America. 
Girls arc rarely confirmed under twelve or boys under fourteen, 
and the average age is probably a year or more older. It is 
one of llie most solemn duties of parents tn bring their children 
to what is one of tlic central rites of the Church. Both the 
oflicial rec|ttirements and the ceremonials, as found in the 
prayer and service book, are simple and brief, so that what 
may be called the minJnmin of both the preparation and the 
initiation ceremony itself is somewhat slight and formal. This 
not only leaves room for a wide range of indivi<lual practise, 
but all the degrees of tlifferencc between the extremes of High 
and Low Church views are expressed in the many manuals and 
guides for confirmation. 



The order of the Church demands only ihc memoruing of the 
Creed, the Lord's I'raytr, the Ten Cottimati[lment&, and tlic thurler 
catechism. The latter sets forth that the sponsors at the baptism in 
infancy also gave the child its name, and promised thai it should re- 
nounce Ihc devil, worldly pomp and sinful lusL, Ewlievc the articles 
of faith, and keep God's will and law. These vows the cliild now 
assumes for himself with solemn afBrmation. In twelve questions 
ind answers, the nature of the two sacrnmcnts necessary to salvation 
by baptism and the Lord's Supper is set forth. The minister of every 
pahtth is required to instruct and examine on tliesi: es^eiilials, which 
arc often greatly amplified by those who devote tlicmsclves to this 
work with zeal. 

The order of confirmation requires the presence of the bishop, be- 
fore whom, as he sits near the Holy Tabic, the candidates stand. The 
preface, stating the purpose of the rite, is lirst read, while the con- 
grrgatiun stand, llie minister ihcti presents the chiUiren. and tlic les- 
son is read from Acts, on the gift of the Holy Ghost by ihc laying on 
of hands. The solemn question is then put hy the bishop: " Do ye 
here, in the presence uf God and of this congregnlion, renew the sol- 
emn promise and vow, tliac ye made or that was made in your name 
at your Baplii;m: ratifying and continuing llie same; and acknowledg- 
ing yourselves bound to believe and to do all those things which ye 
mtdcrtook or your Sponsors then undertook for you? " and the momen- 
tous words, '■ £ do." arc pronounced audibly by every candidate. The 
bishop's prayer that follows is for the daily increase of each of the 
gifts of the Holy Ghost, after which he lays his hands upon tJie head 
of each, saying, " Defend. O I-ord, this thy Child with thy heavenly 
pace; thai he may continue thine forever; and daily increase in thy 
Hnly Spirit more and more until he come unto thy everlasting king- 
dOB. Amen." After this fullow the collects and benediction. It is 
eirnestly expected that every newly confirmed person shall attend the 
Lord's Supper without delay. 

At the High Church extreme, the instruction for first commun- 
>ni is elaborate and chiefly ecclesiastical, the manuals prescribing a 
knwledge of the seven daily offices of the psalter from matin lo cnm- 
pliie, and some historical matters, hut especially and in great detail, 
otihc liturgy as celebrating the eucharist, which is the chief act of 
Wrship, because it commemorates the sacrifice of Oirisl, which is the 
wntral fact in Christendom. Unlike the Roman Church, the modem 
Engtish tractarian invites, on the pan of the communicant, a high 
<l^ce of metaphysical activity, to which ihe mind of bright adoles- 
tents is often io prone. " ll is %ve]I." says Ewer,' "for the class 
lo umJcTStand dislinctly what the doctrine of transuKslnntiation is as 
diitinguishcd from transaccidcntation. and to know why as .Anglican 
Cilholics wc decline to admit its truth." Hence, it is explained at 
''"gth that Christ is not impanatcd in the sacred species. His body, 

'Maaiul of lastractioo for Ciu»us jncpuio^ fur Cumuiuniuiii p. 34. 



soul, and divinity are not to be divided, as by the Roman theory of 
communion in one kind, but arc wholly present in Ihe bread and wine. 
Their res ipsissinia is not present under Ihe outward form, Ihe acci- 
dents of which remain unchanged. The presence is real and objective, 
not local, but supra-tucal. While the phenomenal color, form, taste, 
smell and weight of the bread and wine remain unchanged, the noume- 
nal "thing in itself" of the holy emblems is not absent, but actually 
although mystically present. Water must be always mingled with the 
wine to symbolize the union of divine and human. While the body 
assimilates natural food, the process here is reversed, and the recipient 
is himself as<iimilatcd and transformed into the higher divine life, and 
the self of Christ is identified with his own. 

The liturgy, which, like the Roman, constitutes ttie august rite of 
mass, is traced back to the apostles, and represents the perpetual 
obligation: it is at the same time historically commemorative both 
of tile Last Supper of our Lord and of the later stages of his life, 
his death, and his ascension. When the celebrant enters, he may medi- 
tate of jcsuss entrance into the garden; when he bows over his tc- 
creta. he may think of jcsus's falling on his face in prayer; when he 
saluics the altar, of the treacherous kiss; when the sacred vessels 
are unveiled, of Jesus spoiled of his garments; at the prayer, of Jesus 
scourged; at the lavabo, of Pilate washing his hands; when he kneels, 
of Jesus falling under the cros.'i; at the hymn, of his death; at the 
" Our Father," of his resurrection ; at the Ghria, of his ascension ; and 
at the benediction, of the descent of the Holy Ghost. In ihc service 
something goes up to Cod, though our thanks be no more than the 
burnt offering of a grain of chaff, and something descends from God 
to man, for the cucharist is a fountain of grace. To cat and drink 
unworthily and without discernment is damnation. We must there- 
fore lift up our hearts and hunger for the meat that perisheth not. 
We were grafted into the true vine in baptism, but now the intus- 
susception is complete, and every scion shoots as with spring-tide. 

While the Greek Church permits only leavened and the Roman 
only unleavened bread, the Anglican Church allows cither. The com- 
niunicant may stand or kneel, but never sit; must, as in roost of the 
churches since ihe apostles, only partake of it fasting, that it may sen- 
sibly affect body as well as sou! ; must receive the bread in the hollow 
palm, supporting it with the other, and forming a cross, consume the 
smallest particle, to avoid dcsccrattnn, and offer some form of solemn 
and adoring salutation. The priest only can place the elements on 
^he allar. because it is a sacrificial act, and can not be properly under- 
taken by cither the sexton or a woman. An odd number of collects 
should be read, because the Lord's Prayer has an uneven number of 
petirions; the pro-onaphona mtiai be said on the epistle side of the 
altar; the protasis must commemorate some special attributes of God. 
and the apodosts must ask a special blessing for the exercise of the 
same attributes. 

Careful self-examination, repentance, new resolutions, and the cul- 



tiVation of faith and charily, and sometimes even penance, should pre- 
cede. Afterward communiuit ought to be partaken at least thrice 
jearly, and some partake weekly with advantage. Spiritual, as dis- 
tinct from actual or sacramental communion, can be more frequent. 
The former ts like opening a door from a dark into a light room; the 
Utter is like bringing in the light. The former is the slow rise of a 
tide keeping pace with a river, and dnmming it so that it rises higher 
and sets back : the latter flows up and flushes the river as with a tidal 
vavc and with complete intermitigling of waters. 

(E) TTie Lutheran, the mother of Prntestant churches, anti 

also the largest of them all, claiming seven miltion atiherenls 

in America and fifty million in the world, confirms over three 

hundred thousand children a year in Prussia alone, and expects 

all Lutheran parents to cooperate in the preparation for this 

rite. Save in a few essentials, the polity of the Oiurch varies 

widely, the Scandinavian organization being episcopal, the 

German consistorial, and the American synodical ; the age, 

pitparation, and details of confirmation also vary much. The 

Lutheran ideal is the Bible in the vernacular actively taught, 

ind hymns fervently -stmg in every homehold, especially with 

children. Piety is first of all a family matter. This Church, 

for the first time in history, sought to bring each indi- 

ndtai into immediate personal relation with the divine. In 

its service, preaching became again very prominent, and the 

congregation took active part tn worship, especially in song. 

lis liturgy is regarded as a form, unchanged for a millennium, 

by which communion with God is sought as a bond Ijetween 

the Chri.stiaii past, present, and future, between the Church 

militant and triumpliant, visible and invisible. 

The Lutheran children do not look forward to conversion. If they 
^ve been baptized in infancy and daily nurtured, tlicy must not be 
usunied to be unregeneratc, hut as already in a state of grace. The 
frcrms of a spiritual life were early planted, and have grown with 
tlieir growth, and they need no vioU-iit change or drastic religious ex- 
penence. Religion is a growth, not a conquest; but adolescence if 
the critical season of development, during which special care is noed- 
fnl. Even confirmation is not indispensable, and although it has spir* 
itual sanction and is almost a matter of course, it is not authorita- 
tively enforced. 

In Europe, confirmation at fourteen or fifteen is the rule, as it is 
wberever there are good parochial schools to look after both pre-' 



paratory and subsequent training. WTjerc tliese are lacking, as they 
still are generally in this country, where there are ycl but about three 
thousand, the age is commonly from fifteen to twenty. It is preceded 
by one or two winter courses of instruction by the pastors, who some- 
times h<:ar llie catechumens in 3 Sunday-school class by themselves, 
with extra work outside, for from four to six months, (or one or two 
years, with from one to three sessions weekly — some mles prescribing 
one hundred hours in all. The essential subject-matter is Luther's 
smaller catechism, which in chicfiy an exposition of the T-ord's Prayer, 
the Ten Comniandmenls, the sacraments, and the Augsburjj Confes- 
sion, which is the oldest Protestant creed. Lutheran and general 
Church history arc often added, and doctrinal, devotional, and eccle- 
siastical matters frcfjucnlly dwelt upon in the manuals most in use. 
The form of instruction is catechetical, by questions and answers, 
and considerable verbal memorizing is required, but the pastor seeks 
chiefly lo reach the heart. 

The Lutheran Church rediscovered the Bible, causing a renaissance 
of its study, and reversed former methods by making Ihc sacred 
book and not the Church and its instiluHons basal; in its teaching 
no religious body insists more strongly that Scripture contains the 
very words of God, or is more impatient of the higher criticism. 
Luther, at Worms, with his hand on the open Bible and saying, 
" Here I st.'ind, 1 can not do otherwise. God help mc. Amen," which 
Froudc calls the finest scene in modern history, fitly became the Spir- 
itual father of a Oiurch which has sought to mold its creeds, the- 
ology, liturgy, hymns. a.nd life ninrc closely after the Bible than 
any other, that can accept no theories of a fallible authenticity of its 
divine oracles, or a human and merely exemplary Saviour, and that is 
proud that it has no heresy trials^ ahhough originating in the same 
fatherland where moNt heresies have sprung. With this cardinal 
principle, wc should expect great stress to be laid upon direct Bible 
teaching. While thi« is done more than in the Catholic or perhaps 
even Anglican preparations for first communion, it is mostly by way 
of memorizing proof texts for sacraments and creed. 

Toward revelation the chief Liuheran doctrine is faith that makes 
for justification, and not reason that makes skeptics. Faith, the 
mightiest of all words in the soul's lexicon, is the key to man's lost 
paradise; it conditions and is larger than conduct, in the source of 
all the authority of conscience, the chief of all the duties, and has 
done nil the real miracle? in history; it is the best criterion of the 
vigor, health, and maturity of the soul, and man's only possible ground 
of salviiliou. Faith enlarges the soul of Ihe individual to the dimen- 
sions of the race, enabling him to be a citizen of all limes and a spec- 
tator of all spiritual events, and is the organ by which we see and 
apprehend, not facts of sense or proof of iniellecl, but the true mys- 
teries or sacraments of instinct and feeling. By it Christ's propitia- 
tory and vicarious sacrifice is imputed to us. 

The focus of the Lutheran theology is the doctrine of communion 


thai Christ's hody and blood arc, as the Augsburg Confession says, 
"truly present under the form of bread and wine." Some manuals 
(or first communion leach that ilie divine elements are invisible, or 
inseparable, yet unmixed with the actual food dements, or that the 
Ullcr participate in the former, as Plalo made real things partici- 
pate in idea», or that they inhere, a* ihc schrtolmen made attributes 
inhere in substance; the union is called not carnal but sacramental, 
or they &ay that there is not a real change but a means of change, 
while the doctrines of both iram^ubstantiatioti and coniiiibslanliHtion 
are rejected. Faith Is said to appropriate the passion and merits of 
the divine sacrifice in an inexplicable way. 

Instruction csiiecially preparatory to first cDmmunicn is also given 
concerning the Church festivals, as I.uthcr especially advised, viz., 
Christmas, Circumcision, Epiphany, Easter, Ascension, and Pentecost, 
Si. Stephen's Day, and October 31st. which is the day I.ulher nailed 
vy his ninety-five theses. There are also lectionaries for minor fes- 
tivals, and of saints in the Lutheran Christian year, tu bring the bio- 
graphical dement to pedagogical efficiency. Confirmation day is on 
PUm Stjnday. AH Lutheran churches hold confession to be a (it pre- 
piratory discipline for first communion. This is nol imposed as a 
Rtctssity, but taught as a privilege, is general rather than explicit and 
detailed, and all sins need not be enumerated. All Lutheran pastors 
can give absolution for confei^scd sins, thuugh this is not absolute, 
'■fflly exhibitory. The disciplinary value of this is high, for it relieves 
tht conscience and evokes advice an<l cnnifcrt where most needed. 
Lather places these rites next to the sacraments themselves. 

Confirmation being preparatory to first communion, there is usually 
a public examination of the children, held in the church immediately 
Receding the ceremony or on ihe Sunday before, in order to sec if 
om ihc least gifted have been traiticd to enough knowledge of the 
tttodamenlal docirrnc of ilie Church lo partake of (he sacraments prop- 
oly. They stand before the altar, girls in white and boys in black, 
ud are addressed by the pastor: then, after the Lord's Prayer, the 
wnfirmants are asked to renounce the devil and fleshly lusts and ac- 
ttpt die Apostles' Creed. They assent to this, and vow to remain 
Inie lo God. the Church unci its doctrine, and the congregation unites 
in jolemn prayer for (hem. They then kneel at the altar, and the 
^or places his right hand on the head of each, invoicing the fear of 
God and hope of eternal life; Ibey are then exhorted to partake of all 
(iie blessings of church membership, and renew and assume for them- 
kIvm the obligations of their baptism. Scripture by the congrega- 
tion and a Iwnediction conchulc the service, after which each child is 
fifcn a certificate or diploma of confirmation as a memento. 

The Lutheran Church has only lately begun the special work for 
young people after confirmation. In New York city the " Young Peo- 
ple's Union " was founded about ten years ago for this purpose, and 
ia the western part of the State associations for young men have been 
extending for iiome years. These arc now united in tlie Luther League 



uf that State, wttli its own journal of that name. In Pennsylvania, 
ihc Luther Alliance, and among the Germans llic Voung Men's Asso- 
ciations and (he Voung ladles* Societies, arc inter-church organiza* 
taou for (he same end. Elsewhere central associations are fonited. A 
Katfanul Union, of which all these are members, is now formed. The 
problems uf this Church far older adolescents are somewhat unique, 
ami few religious bodies have so sufTered from proselyting, %vhtch has 
6e<a a spur to this new effort 

The savag^e and Cbristian rites «ach need a volume, for 
iteithcr hnvc yet been gathered. Here \vc arc at the ethnic 
bctfiiutin^ of wlucation, all of which have developed from 
stich initiations. While the Church sees clearly its moral 
iliiijjers, as primitive races relatively fail to do, both assume 
ft slh>rt ami sharp rather than a prolonged period of transition 
and lay stress on external and outwardly impressive cere- 
tni'iiKils. It was reserved for ultra and especially American 
IVutcstantism. as ihe next chapter shows, to enter tlie soul at 
(>ul)C!)Ccncc and attempt to prescribe and nonnalize its states 
mid changes. The crying need of a brtvadcr comparative sttidy 
o( all these regimens, inner and outer, to determine on the 
baits <»f n larger knowledge the better formulation of the pro- 
|hirlion of clcnicnts, and their maximal moral utilizations, is 
ulvvady apparent, as is the higher standpoint to which we must 
rUo alK>ve all preference of race, sect, and creed if we would 
iUvduirjifc all our duty to youth. 



CoavcruoD uiutn' Ibe New England llieocnury— JonAthan Edwarilx— Revivalhm 
^-StUtilic* and upiatcms oE cvangeliits as to age uf must Fm|ucnt cunveniani 
^■Sooce»ire changes of haul — The Symiiosioin— Twrclve panUIeh betwoea 
nligioiu and lesuAl phenomena — Great lunvlnouiness yet partisiiiy of chew 
Ullogies. I, CoBveitign as a Dormal and universal process of growth — Pas* 
ng« from an anloccolric lo an heierocentric basts. 11. Aggtavoiion of (his 
uloral transiiicn by a sense of sm^-Thc Seven Deadly Stns of the Church^ 
Imposstbiliiy of real counter conversion or deroiion to evil — Craving for pen- 
■by and confestion'^>Sense of sin as hereditary most of all eisaperaiing — Ke< 
htioDS of lin to meUncholia — Rhythm of depressive and cialtcd stnlcs— The 
recoo si ruction after abnormal atuiely perhaps on a lower plane — Encreaacd 
k stability due to sexual abcrratton — The solntioiis of Onutama and of Jcsui. 
111. Doubt — Crude ideas of childhood — Pain of rcctihcaiion — Superiority of 
Caiboliciain— Havoc of dogma nnd need of larger ideas of (a) soul and (i) 
ScriptnTe. IV. External norms of conversion— Insect world^Spring — Dawh 
••Plato's ca»e — TTie story of (he Cross and its cffect~Con vera ion in literature, 
liitory, and phUosojihy. V. Degradations nnd fourfold jier^-ersioiis of con- 
veraion — Causes and illustrations — Wide ra«(;e of individual variations. ' VI. 
Conversion as the philosophy of religion and history, and ihe f^erai of cdnca- 
tiooal systems — Classification of dchnilioDs of religion — Tlie wrctchedncsa of 
primitive man— Tragic guilt and ihe soteriologicai function of heroes — I'ity and 
Ifmpalhy b«sal for morals and fcltgion — Characteristics of religious genius — 
Kbla BUpplemented by other ethnic religions^ Mission pedagogy — .\Iien faiths, 
lft« th« Old Testament prop^evtic to the New, to be (alhllcd and not de* 
T o ytd ^ T he higher Chridianiiy ol th« faliir«. 

Whether or not it be a restoration of apostolic concep- 
^ons, the modern idea of a re-birth as essential to the salva- 
tion of the soul hereafter is chiefly a Puritan and more 
sp^fically a New England orthodox Congregations list idea. 
Despite the examples of Paul and Augustine, conversion in 
•^eMitJdle Ages and in Catholicism me^int adoption of a creed 
sad submission to the authority of the Church, while early 
Uflhodism. which did more than any other denomination to 
•fc^'Clop the personal rt^encrative formula and motive, came in 
* Bttk later. The origin of the idea that there must be a 
*»ngc so radical and transforming that it can be definitely 




recognized, and yet wrought chiefly on and not by the subject 
ol it, and that may profoundly reconstruct character and con- 
duct, can be fully traced in the history of what might be called 
a culture ep<Kh, beginning about 1735, which is of profound 
interest and significance for the psychologist.' The New Eng- 
land theocracy permitted only church members to hold civil 
office. To qualify, each must receive the Ijird's Supper, and a 
clergyman who witlihekl it upon request was liable to prose- 
cution. The law admitted all who had l>een baptized, learned 
the creed and catechism, and had not committed *' scandalous 
crime." The Cliurch had such influence that it often attracted 
the bad as well as the good into it. Piety declined imder this 
system, and men never converted in the motlem sense entered 
the ministry, .^rminianism was wide-spread, and tmder the 
free-thinking influences, culminating later in the French Revo» 
lution, skepticism was on the increase. The majority who at- 
tended and supported the Church thought that they could 
achieve their own salvation by good works which lay within 
the power of their own wills. 

Jonathan Edwards first and alone seems to have grasped 
the whole situation, and was peculiarly fitted by character 
and learning to meet it. The alliance of the French Jesuits 
with the dreaded Indians intensified the hatred for popery. 
Unbelief was sufficiently wJflc-spread to suggest the appeal to 
philosophical principles in ju.stification of biblical standpoints 
and theological doctrines which he was so well fitted to make, 
and there is, I think, abundant evidence that he deliberately 
decided to attempt a new use of the great Protestant prin- 
ciple of justification by faith alone, to insist on God's abso- 

'Tmcy: The Crenl Awnkening ; Bosionn 1841. R.Baird: Religion in America ; 
1856; esprcially chap. vL II, F. Uhdcn : The New Enet&nd Theocracy. W. 
H. Conant : On Revivals in Colleges, 1859. J. Edwards; On Revivals and the 
Diiilingui filing Marks o[ a Work of the Spirit of Cod, Narratives of Sarpriung 
CoDVcrsiuDs. and Thoughts qh (he Revival of Religion in New England, 1740. Gil- 
lies: Memoirs of \Vhiicfic!d, and PhiJips's Life and Times of Whitcfwld. The two 
Lives of Wesley, by Moore and Snuthcy rcsjiccrivcly. W, B. Spratcue : Lectures 
on Revivals: New Vork, 18^3, S. P. Hayes: An Hist. Study of the £dwart)««a 
Ruvivalx : Am. Joum. of Psy., October. 190a. p. 55° ffff<f- See also Porter's 
lure on Revivah, Finney's Autolnu^apiiy mid Lectures on Revivals. Eu1e: 
BrinjrinK in tlte Sheaves, Fish's Handbook of Revivals. Ilervey's MaodtiDOk 
erf Revivals, 


lute sovereignty and " just liberty of election," and to teach, 
in place of the current conception of human initiative, the no- 
tion that all persons not specifically converted are sinners ihat 
"have merited and now deserve instant damnation." tlal this 
is wholly just, and that tiiere is notliing to do but to call upon 
God for mercy through Christ. The only indication that God 
is disposed to withhold eternal punishment is the fact that he 
gave his Son to ilJe for men, and this alone can be pleaded in 
prayer. All the virtues of the unregenerate man are vileness 
and but fdthy rags, giving absolutely no claim, and he must 
be entirely resigned to his own condemnation to hell as the 
only course possible to a just and sovereign God. If he is 
saved, it will be an act of pure and spontaneous goodness on 
the part of Deity, and the belief that this act of mercy 
will extend to him is faith. Salvation comes to seem too good 
ior sinners, while tlieir approval of the excellence of Gtxl's jus- 
tice made them " almost call it a willingness to be damned " 
(Tracy, p. 15). and they were brought to feel that " the glory 
of his justice should not be sacrificed for their sakes." First 
Ihcre comes the " legal distress." which may continue some 
lime, and then supervenes a holy repose of soul, a sacred dis- 
position to fear and love God. and to hope for blessings and 
sdvation from both sin and its penalty, and a new aspiration 
for holiness, which not at first but later is fully recogni/cd as 
trine grace redeeming the soul and working not only par- 
*ion but progressive sanctification. 

Edwards did not hesitate to appeal to fear. " If we should suppose 
ihat a person saw himself hanging uvcr a great pit, full of fierce and 
glowing flames, by a thread that he knew to be very weak and not suf- 
licicni to bear his weight, and knew that mutliludes bad been in such 
I drcumstanee before and that most of them had fallen and perished. 
anit nw nothing within reach that he could take hold of to save him, 
•fcal distress would he be in I How ready to think lhat now the 
thread was breaking, that now this minute he should be swallowed up 
in Ihcisf dreadful flames, and would he not l>e ready to cry out in such 
circumstances P How nuicb nior« tliust; that sec themselves in this 
manner hanging over an infinitely more dreadful pit or held over 
it in the hand of God, who at the same lime they sec to be exceed- 
ingly provoked I No wonder they arc ready to expect every minute 
when this angry God will let them drop, and no wonder they cry out 
al their misery, and no wonder thai (lie wrath of God, when mani- 



(estcfl but a Utile to the sou], overbears human strength."* Else- 
where ' Edwards insists that " there is nothing: that keeps wicked 
men at any one monient out of hctl but the mere pleasure of God." 
The unconvcncd belong to the devil, and he is ready to seize them ■ 
the moment Cod pennits. God is more angry " witli many now in I 
this congregation" than with many now in the flames of hell. He 
tells his people that some of them will, within a year, remember this 
discourse in helt. "There will be no end to the exquisite, horrible 
misery. The inhabitants of heaven find all the universe will look on 
and praise God's justice. No prayer will mitigate God's hate and 
contempt, for he can no longer pity. You would have gone to hell 
last night had he not held you like a loathsome spider over the flames 
by a thread. Every moment of delay accumulates wrath." 

Before 1835 revivals had often occurred hi America and 
elsewhere, but they were spasmodic, and their methodology 
had not been welt developed, Stem, doctrinal, and extreme as 
Edwards was, he lacked and would surely disapprove the ex- 
travagance of some methods of modern revivalism. The three 
hundred who joined his church as the result of the sin montlis 
of awakening- in Northampton, manifested a more radical 
change than had hitherto been insisted on. Henceforth re- 
pentance was urged as the chief and immediate duty and the 
supreme necessity of life. It was described as giving the 
heart to God, accepting the covenant or the promises, becom- 
ing reconciled with Christ, laying hold on salvation, awaken- 
ing out of sleep, a change of heart or getting a new one. giv- 
ing up self, dropping a body of death, fleeing from wrath to 
love, turning lest we die, passing from death to life, from the 
power of Satan to God. escaping hell and securing heaven, 
changing from doubt to belief, admitting the Holy Spirit, con- 
forming the will to divine law, the fire iin(\ hammer breaking' 
the flinty rock, having a visitation from on high, a satisfac- 
tion of the mourners, anxious seekers, etc. 

On his arrival in New England in 1740 Whitefield com- 
plained that " tutors neglected to pray with and examine the 
hearts of tlieir pupils, and that most .schools and tiniversities 
had sunk into new senitnarics of paganism, that their light 

' The DisiincnisliinK Msrks of a Work of tho Spirit of Ood (ftpplied to that on- 
coniniun upetacbn tlint has lately appeared in th« mindi at many of the people of 
this laud), Bositrn. 1741. 

* Sinncrt in ihe Il&ndc of ui Angry Uod. Works, ed. 1807, «-al. vii, p. 486. 


bad become darkness," elc. Harvard was at first impressed; 
in 1741 tiie overseers voted to meet ami " spend some time in 
hinnble thanksgiving to God for the effusion of his Holy 
Spirit." Later, when he declared that few clerg>'men were 
converted. Wiggles worth wrote him, pointing nut the dangers 
of enlhusiasni and censuring the " furious zeal with which 
you had so fired the passions of the people and which hath in 
many places burnt into the very vitals of religion," and the 
" sudden and temporarj- turns of distress and joy." During 
the great awakening from iwenty-five thousand to fifty thou- 
sand persons were converted and joined the Church, and the 
piety of previous members was greatly incrcase<l. The fervor 
spread to all evangelical sects, and hundreds of new churches 
were founded. Itinemnt evangelists from without, witti in- 
decent haste for immwliate practical results, entered churches 
and rivaled each other in the number of converts they won. 
Separatists, like Whcclock and Davenport, arose. Other 
parts of Scripture and doctrine were neglected, and exag- 
gerated and surprising narratives of individual struggles and 
experiences multiplied ; tliosc applying for church nieniljership, 
and even clerg>incn seeking ordination, narrated their jjersonal 
experiences of this change for others to judge of. Nearly all 
New England churches which did not become Unitarian came 
to adopt this cult; it colored all the tlieoluj^y of tlie country, 
and became the inexorable condition of church memliersliip, 
and all was ascribed to the form and shape of this special first 
experience. Believers searched oilier hearts and their own 
for mward sentiments, for Edwards's " new idea and new 
feelings tliat did not come through the senses," often mis- 
taking tlte vane for the compass, and there was giving of 
leslimony and loquacity about experiences of unaccountable 
origin and abnonnal impressionability, while *' bodily mani- 
festations," although much discussed and generally disparaged, 
were not very strongly condemned, Edwards himself having, 
from the trancoidal states of his wife, some sympathy with 
tfaem. Tennent's Log College, from which Princeton grew, 
Dartmouth, and missions established among the Indians by 
riraincrd and Sargent, were greatly developed. The reaction 
was inevitable, as revivalism degenerated, and the mean be- 
tween enthusiasm and lukewarmness, anarchy and despotism 


in Church government was sought. In all this history there 
was very little thought of any relation between age and con- 
version. Old and young were affected, and no statistics of 
age are on record. 

The next fifty years were fiHed with wars and commotions, 
and only near the close of the last century came the era of 
modem revivalism. The crimes and passions of man, the ex- 
cesses of the French Revolution and the skepticism which un- 
derlay it, and wild and vague expectations among the young 
of a new order of things with Christianity eliminated, pre- 
pared the way for a new awakening. In 1797 many churches 
in Massachusetts and in Connecticut grew more earnest, and 
the feeling slowly spread. In 1801 a revival of great in- 
tensity, which was characterized by many irregularities due to 
the rude state of society, spread over nearly the whole State of 

McMast«r describes with scant respect a revival, in 1800, at Red 
RivtT, Ohio.' At the words of one effective preacher, he says, faces 
were wet with streaming tears at a pungent sense of sin, and the cries 
for mercy were terrible to hear. " The floor was covered with the 
slain. Some found forgiveness, but others went away spiritually 
wounded, suffering uncontrollable agony of soul. Men fitted their 
wag'ons and traveled fifty miles to camp. Crops were left half- 
gathered, cabins deserted, and camp-meetings multiplied as the rage 
spread." Services were held for seven days, and sometimes all night. 
A girt of seven preached from a man's shoulders till she fell ex- 
hausted, and a Ind of twelve exhorted till he fell, and was then held 
up and continued till llie power of speech was lost. The flickering 
camp-fires and the darkness of the surrounding forest, tlie sobs, groans. 
anti shrick.s nf those in the valley of the shadow of death, the soogs 
and .shouts of joy of those who had found eternal joy in Beulah, were 
too much for the excited imagination, and circuhlion was affected 
and nerves gave way; in the " falling exercise" many dropped to the 
ground, cold and still, or with convuEsive twitches or clonic contortions 
of face and limbs, and at Cove Ridge three thousand were laid io rows. 
At one meeting eleven himdred and forty-five wagons were connted, 
and it was estimated thai twenty thousand persons were present. 
Many came to scon*, but remained to preach. The crowd swarmed all 
nighi from preacher to preacher, singing, shouting, laughing, some 
plunging wililly over stumps and benches into the forest shouting 
'* Lost, lost I " others leaping and hounding about like live fish out of 
water; others rolling over and over on the ground for hours; others 


lyidR on Xhc fp-oumJ and talking when they coiild not move; and yet 
others beating the ground with their hccls. 

As ihe excitement increased it grew more morhid and took the form 
of "jerking," or in others it became the "barking exercise," and in 
ytt others it became the "holy laugh." The jerks began with the 
head, which was thruwn violently from side to side so rapidly that 
the features were blurred and ihe hair almost seemed to snap, and 
when the sufferer struck an obstacle anil fell hr would bounce aliout 
like a ball. Saplings were sometimes cut breast-high for the people 
10 jerk by. In one place the earth about the roots of over hfty of 
them was " kicked up as if by a horse stamping flies." One scoffer 
mounted his horse to ride away when the jerks threw him to the 
earth, whence he arose a Christian. A lad who feigned illness to stay 
away was dragged there by the spirit and his head dashed against a 
wall till he had to pray. A skeptic who cursed and swore was crushed 
by a failing tree. Men fancied thcntsclvcs dogs and gathered about 
a tree barking and yelping — "treeing the devil." They saw visions 
and dreamed dreams, and as the revival waned, It left a crop of 
nervous and hysterical disorders in its wake. 

These extremes were unusual, an<1 were condaTined by all 

sane religioni.«s; but the revival cult was established, and, on 
the whole, with great efficacy for good. In 1802, Yale Col- 
lege was visited, and tlie salvation of the soul became the chief 
topic of conversation. One-third of the sttidents were con- 
rerted, and during the next forty years there were fifteen re- 
rivals there. Princeton was no less favored. The traditions 
of revivalism long lingered, and are yet strong in some of. the 
older American colleges. Durfee makes the early history of 
Williams College to consist chiefly of efforts to secure the con- 
version of students. Its dark periods are years of spiritual 
lirought, when " professors were hardly di.stinguisherl from 
the great body of the unpenitent," ami he tlescrilies with 
great personal detail the seasons of awakening, as in 1825, 
ftlicn there were "twenty convert.*; in thirty days." Edward 
Hitchcock, in his Reminiscences of Amherst, says: " Tlie re- 
ligions history of Amherst is more important and interesting 
than anything pertaining to it;" he enumerates fourteen re- 
vivals up to 1S63. and estimates that three hundred atul fifty 
began thetr religious life there. It was very hard to introduce 
the study of morals or ethics into these colteges. for it implied 
distrust of the Holy Spirit. Even the semi- theological ethics 
of Mark Hopkins was a dangerous innovation to President 


GrifTin, who Ihouglu conversion, which he could exhort so 
powerfully, was beUcr. " Works " were filthy rags, ami Cot- 
ton Mather was appealed to, who. in his diary in 1716, called 
ethics " a vile form of paganism " — " impietas in artis formam 
rcdacta." > 

Very important for this study is the age of most fre- 
quent conversions. In answer to a request for information 
concerning this topic, kindly inserted for me in the leading 
weekly papers of the Methodist, Baptist, Congregational, and 
Presb)*terian denominations at various times during the last 
few years, several score of valuable replies from clergymen 
and evangelists have been received, containing individual opin- 
ions, statistics of single churches, results of inquiries made 
at educational institutions and at religious meetings. 

The following are representative. Xtevivolist D. L. Moody wrote 
me tliai he Uiought must conversions occur between llic ages of ten 
anil twenty: that he had noticed no difference In age between the 
sexes, but that nearly all the members of the Northfield school are 
converted before they enter. Bishop D. A. Goodscll informed me 
that it was his custom on crowded occasions of admission to full con- 
ference membership to ask all converted at or under fifteen, ministers 
and laity, to rise. *" The proportion varies but slightly in different 
parts of the country among whites, about three-fifths of all present ris- 
ing at this call. I then ask those converted between fifteen and twenty 
to stand with them. There are then few left. Recently in Newark 
and Philadelphia, in audiences of seven thousand to eight thousand, 
this preponderance was maintained with great unanimity." Rev, E. 
£. Abercrombie writes that at the Holyoke Conference, held in April, 
1893, in an audience of about live hundred Girislian men and women, 
a similar lest showed that about two-tliirds were converted before 
twcntj'. Revivalist E. P. Hammond writes: "1 frcrpienlly ask audi- 
ences to testify at what age they were converted, and 1 find that most 
of ihem became Christians before Ihey were twenty." Evangelist G. 
V. Pentecost, now of Yonkers, has kept no statistics, but writes: " in 
an experience of thirty years of pastoral and evangelical work my 
observation has been that three- fourths of all the conversions occur be- 
tween the ages of twelve and twenty, the proportion of mate to female 
being about two to three. Comparatively few are converted after thirty 
years, and beyond that period the number falls off very rapidly. My 
further experience is that the best after-results in life and ser\-ice 
are found in those who have been converted early." H. K. Carroll, 
of the Independent, thinks that "a large majority" of conversions 

tSec my IliiL ol Am. College Text>Books in Ethics, etc. Proc An. Aoii 
qiurim Sec., (894. p. 1^7 dt jfj. 


occur " before or soon after fiflccn." Dr. J. I,. Hurlbut, who has a 
wide knowledge and expcnence in the Methodist Episcopal Guirch, 
writes thai in his opinion " far the larger niinibcr profcfw Christ 
imder twenty years uf age, a smaller number between twenty and 
thirty, and a very &mall number between thirty and forty." Editor J. 
U. Buckley, of the Christian Advocate, who has knowledge of the 
Tcry rich literature of the Methodist Church, which has always paid 
great attention to the conversion of children, writes that "all our 
ninisters, except a very .few, were converted before ihey were 
niKDty. and ihe large majority of them before they were eighteen." 
Evangelist M. S. Kees often takes tests which show that "the great 
Biajority " of converts arc between ten and twenty. 

President Tliwing, of Adelbert College, a few years ago addressed 
ileticr asking the age of conversion and admission to the Church of 
»ch member of the quite composite American Board of Foreign Mis- 
sions, an exceptionally representative body of Christian men. From 
149 replies it appeared thai 2t) were converted " very young," 21 be- 
tween eight and twelve, 26 between twelve and tiftecn, and 1^^ before 
t*aity. At a large meeting Evangelist B. Fay Mills asked ail who 
had been converted under twenty to rise, and over 1,100 rose. The 
all for those converted between twenty and thirty brought 180 to 
thtirfcet; between thirty and forty, there were 35; between forty and 
%, 14 stood; between fifty and sixty, there were 8. He writes that 
"ftcnty by far the most, but ilie most active Christians, are converted 
i" the teens. At a recent Sunday-school convention at Hillsdale, 
Mich., 9B workers were found to be converted at or before twelve, 
41 kttwecn twelve and twenty, 13 between twenty and forty, and 2 

Spencer' states that out of every 1.000 cases. 548 arc converted 
oiJer twenty, 37 between twenty and thirty, 86 between thirty and 
'^f^J. 25 between forty and fifty. 3 between fifty and sixty, and t be- 
f"**!! sixty and seventy. Rev. Th. Sitnms. of South Manchester, 
Conn., writes thai at a session uf the New England Conference, Rev. 
C- M. Hall found, as the result of a census of 200 clerical members 
"* IkM body, that t73 of them were converted before twenty years 
*fijc,89 before fiflccn, and 17 at or under ten. ihc average for all 
'wij a trifle over fifteen years. Dr. Davidson thought mure con- 
tntil before thirteen than after thirty. Dr. K. E. Cole, of Oakland, 
*^. uccrtained the ages of those converted during a three weeks' 
*ttt of revival meetings in that place as follows: 109 from five to 
'•''.372 from ten to fifteen, 283 from fifteen to twenty. 68 from twenty 
''ttiny, 29 from thirty to forty, 16 from forty to fifty, n from fifty 
'" "Sly, 4 over sixty. 
Brockman ' found the age of most frequent conversion to be 

' ^Boa bjr Rev. IclMbud Spcncci, l).lJ.,vol. 1, p. .p»3. 

ASladjr ot tlw Moral and Kcligiont IJfe ol i^i I'reparuory Schcml ScndenU 
''tWUmml Scale*- Pwl. Stm., SepCember, 190a, vol. ix, pp. aSS-aJj. 



seventeen; from tliirleen to fourteen the increase in frequency. »t 
from eighteen to nineteen the decrease, was greatest. He also found 
in 244 students that seventeen was the age of greatest responsiveness 
to religious ideas. 

More specific arc the data presented in the following tabic; 



























, , 


. . 






• « 














































































a 14 































• 7 




19- ■ 

































































































The first foor columns of the above table ■ddeil in totali represenl male*. The 
firil column is compiiccl for me by Librarian l.uuis N. WiUoo, [rotn the Alunuu 
Rccond (i869-'9S) of Drew Thco]i3f;i<;Al Seminar)', which stit» ihe B|[e of cun- 
vcrston of nearly alt lho»e who were sluJcuti there daring the (juarlcr ccotwry 
cuinpnsed in the report. A% oaly those would be likely to enter upon a courvc of 
thei)io|[ica] itudy who were convened early in life, the ages here probably avcTa|[c 
youn([er lliaii those of male convert* generally. The Mine U doubtlett true of the 
rtiull* of (he quesliimyiiiirr circuLatcd by Luther GulJck ainonf: mcmbrrs of the 
V, M. C. A.' Mr. Ayres's column was cumpilcd for me from llie M. E. mtnaics 
of the meeting of the fall of 1890 and reprcsenlfl cler^mcn 1 it show* an age of 
conrersion which U alto donbllcss too yooog. Ur. Starbuck'i* calDmn U based 

^Tbe AttociatioR Onilook. December, t897. 

*A Stady of Conversion, by E. D. Suubuclu An. jow. of Psy., Jmnaf/, 
1897, vol. vtii, pp. 368-308. 


Coe's ' ctirves, like those of StarbucW, arc quite irregular. In one, 
where ninety-nine men report their own religious awakenings aver- 
aging two each, tlie ages of most frequency are thirteen, seventeen, 
and twenty: fourteen, e- g., showing hardly half as many as thirteen. 
In eighty-four decisive conversions that could be dated, the age of 
seventeen showed most frequency, nearly four times as great as four- 
teen. Coe's average age of 1,784 men was 16.4 years. In fifty men 
reporting a second religious experience, Coe shows the following ages: 

Age 13 14 15 16 17 l8 19 ao at aa 33 24 35 a6 aj 28 

Secotid ex> 1 

^erien^}-"* 00044Ill4 45»aiIOl 

Hence, he suggests a premonition at thirteen (the first adolescent 
awakening), a sccrrnd start at seventeen, with a maxinuini a1 twenty, 
and concludes that " when the approaching change lirsl heralds itself 
the religious consciousness also tends to awaken. Again, when the 
bodily life is in most rapid iransilion the rcligpous instincts likewJiic 
come into a new and greater life. Finally, when the fermentation of 
youth begins to settle into the calmness of maturity, once more religion 
makes its claim to be counted in the life." On the basis of facts so 
far at hand this latter must be regarded as conjectural. We do not 
know whether larger numbers would round the curves or deepen their 
indentations for certain youthful years, so it is unsafe yet to infer 
how the ages of, «. g., fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen differ from each 
other. Again, not only are theological students usually composed of 
those early converted, but we have no percentages based even on 
church attendance of any religious community, race, or creed, whiU 
the curves show only the age distributiuti of certain miscellaneous 
or homogeneous groups of converts, and those mostly males, '["hey 
abundantly demonstrate, however, the great religious impression- 
ability of the middle teens, and suggest that the child revivalist, 
Hammond, whose largest percentage of conversions for both sexes 
is at ten, cultivates precocity. 

on otily fifty-one cxms, nnd I have followed fals curves In preMnllng pere«nl«K«», 
»o thai lh« numhcrs in his eohimn we ulrnost twice too IarK«- ITi» caw* wr« 
nretnlljr nelectcd (lom a. Inrgcr nnmbcr. rfprcscnUnK all aRC*. wilh much rrpird to 
the (aln««% at the record. The column of Kpv. t,. A. I'npc, of the Ilaptitit Chiircli oi 
Neirbnryport, Mni>., includrsbcith sexes itnd all ngr« in liix church, htu hetengain, 
u women generally prRpondernie in the metiil>ershtp liMi of all churthca, and na 
they teem to b« co-nverled earlier than men, hi* data represent, nu doulJl, an age 
loo youot; for ihe average male. T>r. Slarlmclc'a column for fem^ea 11 baaed un 
lity-iia iclected caaei, here prcnemed in pertentageii. The last i«fo ctiluinns tro 
■[uled from the covenant book o( Rev. E. P. HainniijncJ, whose speciality ii 
ival trork with children, which he kindly louied m* for ilie purposo. Thpy 
Pnpraavni ihe conveits in two scries of mTCtinxs In two small cities. From onr cnU 
[bmnt of male*, il apftears that iixt«ea is the nf^eof moai frequency, while for liaa^ 
BMod ihis age is reduced to ten for boih seien. 

' Geo. A. Cw : The Spiritual Lite, New York, r900, p. 39 et sty. 

l> -s s" ;?^Si'-:r:5s; 


»'"=^'* « vn fi«"^ '^ r.,Uon Sif«' *■'. ,^ ihV^ "^i^^ ' »,i\c\e P-^ ipo*^"*,"^. five 

.its.*'*; „, Aaoi.««°* _ ,bU.. »■»"'• 

:Tm- --'t.d v.^'pf' «, pt."-"" ^ ^- "■ 


Nor is religion degraded by the rccr^ition of tliis intimate 
relationship, save to those who either think vilely about sex 
or who lack insight into its real psychic nature and so fail to 
realize how indissoluble is the bond that God and nature have 
wrought between religion and love. Perhaps Plato is right, 
and love of the good, beautiful, and true is only love of sex 
transfigured and transcemlcntalizcd; but the Gospel i^ l>eller, 
which makes sex love at the best the type and symlx>I of love 
of God and man. This new insight into the parallelisms be- 
tween religion and love and the concomitant or compleniental 
variations of these two is perhaps chief of the many contri- 
butions made and impending by modern psycholr^y to piety, 
and is one of the most sublime and fruitful themes of our 
day, which Kant would verj' likely have added to the starry 
heavens and moral law within as a third object of supreme 
awe, reverence, and interest. As Weismann subordinates the 
entire soma as a mere servant of the germ, as the biology of 
sex makes reproduction the consummation of life, — the raisan 
d^etre of all the secondary sexual qualities. — and as the psy- 
chojogip- of sex selection finds in it the caput Nili of all the 
arts of animal and human courtship, the most unitary and 
teiderated as well as the most intense psychic experience, so 

umtnblcs, onr leading Amrricnn in this field, s most capiaus xnd judicions qtioter 
iniiMh a misierly dcscnbcr at his own even flifting and evajiescent subjeclire 
pfdblz processes, with both f>ersor and psjic invested with such irresistible charm, 
BBCthod, Uid nuny if not most of liis positions here, ictm to do no In* violence 
totxt ihtn do his dicta concerning sex. Most of the cases and Mpcriences which 
^niiute so large a part of his volutne arc abpormal and some teraiolo^iiical, frura 
■telnmc religion, I believe, taves ils follower*, These pathological vsrieiics of 
"''tP<At experience cad explain piety iltcif no more than the menifLl and physical 
f'tibof hysteria explain true womanhood, the WiertK mniiciim explain an. or the 
cSkil (4 music on the insane show its real nature. That Cod i« proven by an hnl- 
^laiwy sense of presence, that the religion of the healthy- minded is mind cure, 
^ innoTlality is demonstrated by ghostly lelepothy. and that the Inrid experiences 
'^ fiiiit SrrfS^rtAum, saturated by affeetaeion, impress ion ism, and the passion to 
"CinitjBe and interesting, deseribed in colors laid on with a trowel and all marked 
l^satbasdon and superlniiveness that throws scientitic caution and moderation to 
rt^wtada, ud which, at the best, are only a few of the most superficial phenomena 
*t the adolescent fcntienl — this scctns to mc the babel of Babylon or of Walpnrgis 
>>tbi, aad not the mosic of the heavenly city. True, the psychopathic temperament 
^ adviaiages, but iheyarc at best only Literary, and it it itself essentially both 
ui-rdigiaas and an ti -scientific. Many if not moat of these " cxpCTiences " trc 
tte fiUow literature of religions psychology. 



religion at hh liig-hest potcncc is union with God. to wHh 
e\'crytbrng in the religious life leads up as its goal or makes 
its point of departure. Love is the greatest thing in the world 
for both the religionist and the amorist. Its praise is in su- 
perlatives, for all else is dross. We must ]o\'e with all our 
mind, might, and strength. Both furnish in their sphere the 
strongest motive kHh to assert and to renounce the will to 
live. They are exalted and degraded together, and the best 
work of each is to keep the other pure. Religion is at its best 
when its earthly image is most spotless and untarnished, and 
love is at its best where religion is purest and most undettled. 
Just as this relationship seems to degrade religion only to 
those whose ideals or cults of lf>ve are low or undeveloped, 
so those who dispraise religion hzvt not realizeil how indis- 
pensab!" it is to perfect love. How central this thought was 
in the mind of Jesiis many parables and sayings attest. True 
piety is earthly love transcendentalized, and the saint is the 
lover purifietl, refined, and perfected. To liave attained this 
insight. In have organized it into life, cult, and a Church, is the 
supreme claim of Jesus upon the gratitude, reverence, and awe 
of the human heart. No such saving service has ever been 
rendered to our race, and we can see no room in the future 
for any other to be compared with it. His diagnosis of the 
chief danger that threatened our race was sure and true, and 
the remedial agencies are the best yet in sight. 

Perhaps few masterpieces in tiloraUirc have been so much wiser 
than ihc audior himself knew than the Platonic Symposium. The 
guests decide not to drink, and they dismiss the fiutc girl and devote 
themselves lo post-prandial discourse concerning love, Phardrus al- 
most chants of it as a niiglny ^d. creating order out of chaos, quicken- 
ing the sense of hnnnr and dishonor in youth, irresislihle in war if 
men who arc lovers stand side by side, sending Orpheus to Hades to 
rescue his love, etc. Pausanias distin^iishcd the older and baser 
Aphrodite of the body from the purer Eros of the soul. The gods 
allow lovers all liberties, and at their very perjuries great Zeus smiles. 
Aristophanes, assuming that love is the grcatcsi and best thing in 
the world, invents the serio-comic myth of primeval androgynous 
monsters with four hands and four feet, back lo back, terrible in wars 
against the gods. To hiiniblc ihcir pride, they were split like a sorb 
apple or an egg with a hair, and the skin gathered in a knot at the 
navel. The two halves, man and woman, have ever since desired and 
sought their other moiety, and would be molten over again into one 


as of yorc. Agathon sings of a deity who sets her feet, not like Ate, 
upon hard skulk, but walks on the soft hearts of man, who has tatight 
mankind arts and medicine, and is the pilot, defender, savior, and 
gUiry of gods and men. Last uf all, Socrates describes procreation as 
the principle of immonality in monals. It is for inimortalily that 
even animals die for their offspring. But if the conceptions of the 
body are so loftily interpreted, what shall we »ay of those of the 
soul ? Love is of the mind and not of the body, of ideas and not of 
physical forms. It would bring to the birtli fair though! to improve 
the young and infect them with the passion for hcauiy in all and not 
in one, till, as the soiii draws near the eternal sea of beauty and is 
smitten with the boundless love of wisdom, ever using al) kinds of 
beauty as stepping-i^loncs up to absolute knowledge, it forgets food 
and drink and the body, pants with ecstasy, is absorbed, iran.^lalcd, 
and woald lose itself in contemplation and close in again with its 
divine source. The pangs of philosophy and those of love unite, rea- 
son and passion fuse. Truly, before this mystic idealism, we may well 
fed that current conceptions of love arc cither a very rudimentary 
bod or else a crumhling niin, but yet thai the purest love anti the 
highest truth were created for each other, and that if the world is at 
root real and sane, it will culminate in their union. 

Christianity gives a yet higher interpretation of love— the 
greatest power of the soul fixed upon the greatest object, God, 
and next to him. man. both pray and serve hest who 
love most. To the Christian, God himself is love, and without 
the Pauline charity or love, all is soiinding brass or tinkling 
cjinbals. The very end and essence of both moral and re- 
ligious culture is to conceive and ciiltivate love in the purest, 
loftiest, and most all-comprehending way. We saw in Chap- 
ter VI how often in fact the sting of sin lies in the sphere of 
sex, and phallic worship shows how religion itself can grovel. 
If true love is the religion of the flesh, true religion is the love 
of the spirit. 

Some of the similarities and covariants of religion and love best 
seen at adolescence may be enumerated as follows: 

I. Both suggest death, and may not only risk, but court, fly to, 
despise, and triumph over it. In the subordination of this life to 
the neat and lo posterity, both alike arc reductives of individuality. 
To mo*lem biology the soma, or all that can become a corpse, is a 
ict of thanatic organs which the deathless germ plasma has developed 
as iu tool, and is a specialized and therefore a degenerate thing com- 
pared with the genetic elements, which arc conlinuous from the first 
form of life to the last. They seem to whisper to the soul of youth 



that lie h only a link in an endless chain that connects his forebcan 
with posterity. Instead of the latter, religion now tells of the post- 
mortem self, and that the present life is cheap and mean as immor- 
tality is slowly brought to light. Greatly as the fear of death is now 
increased, it also fascinates, and. as we saw, even the suicide-curve 
rises sharply. Scott* found that of over two hundred cases, eighty- 
nine had brooded on death during the early teens, as if this back- 
ground thought was needed to bring out the resources of love, Plato 
taught that the philosopher who is in love with general ideas is really 
seeking death, so enamored is lie of the transcendental. Some 
religions, not satisfied with accepting death with joy as the inevitable, 
court annihilation or would be dissolved into a mere diffusive power 
to get in closer rapport with the universe; so love in its extreme 
hyperbole prompts its victim to wish to become the air that surrouitds, 
the breeze that fans, or the ornament that adorns his beloved.' 

3. True love and religion both make the soul highly sensitive to 
nature. The flowers, the stars, the wind, the sea, all remind the love- 
sick swain of his Dulcinea: but to the religious soul they are mere 
asseverations and texts, and not substitutive, because the mistress 
appears sensibly, while God is hidden. All the poetry and metaphors 
of love show the great importance of its scene-setting in nature, and 
of the subtle symbolism and the rich material of comparison, that 
pervades her whole domain. What could the amorist do, as we saw 
in Chapter XII, without the moon, the a/ure sky which reflects his 
mistress's eyes or the depth of her soul, the breeze that takes messages, 
the snow that mirrors her purity: when she is absent, how tender his 
heart becomes toward all these items of the environment with which 
she has been associated, cither in his experiences with her or in his 
fancy. So, too, religion glorifies nature. Stars sing of God's love, 
the firmament shows his work, the spring his bounty, the world is 
full of his design and provision, everything that pleases under the 
sky i.1 a token of special providence to the newly reborn lover of God, 
who is assured that nothtrtg ill can befall him for he is in hts Father's 
house. It is Ke who makes tlie birds sing or the sparrow fall ; who 
arrays the lilies, and endows animals with their wondrous instinct: 
that numbers our hairs, names the stars, and makes the most common 
joys of life and the simplest bounties of nature mementoes and 

* Psychology of Pnluny tai Adolescence. Proc of Iht N. E. A., 1897, p. 84S. 

* Anger, loo. may now prnmpt inch f«e)in);s ai in lovers' qturrdi. A p'l <^ 
fiflem, oSended tijr ihow she loves. gf<a 10 her room, locks herscU in. U« on ibe 
bed, folds her arms across her breast, breAihcs quietly, inugines that »lie is dead, 
thnt the family rush in, icprt ihm ih*y parted in anger, kiss her p«s»ii>natel)-. the 
neighbors gather and say. " Poor |;irl. to have died so young ! " and !h« coKn 
is heaped with Rowers; she Imuws (he text of the clereyman and what he will 
■ay: the lid is screwed down, and only w!ien the dods begin to fall on the coSbi 
does she feel iKtter, ud gets up aod goes down-stairs with every trace of had 



keepsakes, so that in the normal spul love of nature and tove of God 
are ii)sc{>arable. 

3. Boih have their fanaticisms. The medieval knight wore the 
color or the favor of his chosen one, sang her praises as (aire&t and 
best in the world, and if another dared dispute and assert the supcr- 
lativeness of his own mistress, only the wager of battle could decide. 
So races have fought for their faith, and rettmred aulas da fc of 
others, and the conqueror has forced the con()Mcred 10 unwillingly 
confess the supremacy of his Deity and do homage to him. There 
is but one supremely gixwl and beauteous to whom all must bow. Allah 
is one and above all. Jehovah is God and there is no other, have been 
battle cries; and the Lord from heaven has looked down with com- 
placency upon the slaughter nf those who denied him. and has given 
strength to the arm of his defender and shown some special sign of 
favor when the victory was won. Proclaim Jesus, preach the glory 
of his Kfc everywhere till Ihe world shall acknowledge it, is the en- 
thusiasm of Ihe courtship methods of militant Christianity. 

4. Lovers, almost from the lowest creatures that arc scxcd, are 
nest-bnilders. They make bowers not only for their young, but for 
their mates, or a cottage for two, Ihe greater (he love the smaller it 
may be. decorated with abundant flowers, keepsakes, mementoes, and 
muiifold ornaments; this is the way in which love expresses its in- 
stincts of sheher. protection, and symbiosis or life together. If not 
this, there are trysling-places hallowed by association, and where for 
either alone thoughts of the other are most vivid, and consecrated 
by memories. So religion builds its towers, altars, chapels, dolmens, 
stonehengcs, cathedrals, and shrines, where God comes down to dwell 
and meet the worshiper. These are richly dight willi the products 
oi man's esthetic faculties, so akin is beauty to both piety and love. 
The temple, too, must be symbolic of its inhabitant ; its arches must 
ht lofty: its spire must point upward; the light must speak with all 
Ihe symbolism of color; and its permanence must suggest the pcr- 
<Jurable, if not the eternal. 

5. Religion, like love and the sea, ebbs and flows, and modes of 
abnegation arc as characteristic as those of aggression and assertion. 
The tmcertain lover may wear, perhaps exhibit, himself with every 
Coken of depression, humiliation, and despair; neglect his toilet, seek 
solitude, and may mutilate himself, or court death cither to excite 
J>ity or in sheer despair of winning his mistress's favor. Erotic litanies 
abound in expressions of love-melancholy, a passion to serve, to be 
Inumtliated by the loved one. There arc expressions of absenee of all 
^vorth by comparison with her merits. So the religionist immolates 
^knA disfigures his body, offers up his possessions, magnifies all hi* 
^kiQS and fihortcomingg as tf there were 110 good in him. and all to 
"^in divine sympathy or favor, and in the hope that infinite goodness 
"^will be drawn out to gloriously supplement every imperfection. Per- 
taips all hope vanishes, and even death is sought because life is in- 
•*dier»ble without divine as without human love. 



6. The soul is especially cadenced in both love and religion by 
rhythm, which is potent for both. The lover vcDts ht» pa»ion in 
poetry and song, perhaps becomes for a time a serenading troubadour, 
and many a dull soul has broken into vent as many birds do into 
ftong only once in life, and tbat at the matitig season. The dance in 
many races originated in the service of religion, and when it lapses, 
ts prone to fall to the service of passion. The Christian Church 
lar^ly sang and marched its way into the hearts of the pagan world 
of the WesL Music is the language of the feelings as speech is of 
th« intellect, and the theme of by far the most music of the world is 
cither love or religion. The melodies of the one often strangely fit the 
words of the other, while song and hymns have always been one of 
Ihe potent aphrodisiacs of religious affection, and will remain so as 
long as man is thumic or pectoral and must have emotion. 

7. Not only do both abase, but both exalt the self. The accepted 
lover is proud, ecstatic, and fearless, and counts himself the happiest 
of men. There are no human ills or dangers that he lias not the 
strength to cope with. He respects his own virtue, beauty, and grace, 
because he is the chosen one among many. So the soul new-born to 
religion walks on air, his face »hines with (he joy of acceptance, and 
his sense of freedom from guilt brings purity and faith that he can 
prevail with God, with whom he stands in a specially favorable rela* 
lion, and perhaps has some private insist or revelation. This, too, 
is the germ of most of the exalted types of religious insanity. 

S. Both animal and human courtship have their most varied and 
accurately prescribed forms of etiquette and ceremony. They con* 
sist often of a series of acts so exceptional, even in animals, as to 
almost seem like the customs and manners of another world. The 
manner of approach, address, the modes of winning favor, of soliciting 
marriage, gifts, tonsure, and dress, are elaborated with superfine 
punctilio; violation of usage in minor details often gives offense and 
endangers alienntion. So in wooing the favor of the divine, there are 
elaborate rituals, litanies, modes, postures, costumes, fonns of phrase. 
times and places to be scrupulously observed, and often a cycle of 
more or less formalized acts for prayer and charity, and a repetition 
of phrases and ceremonial righteousness generally. 

9. The late painful studies of sexu.-il;i1>crr.ition show us that almost 
any act or object can be focused on by those who are perverted or 
impotent, to inflame the body and soul with lust. Long lists of non- 
phallic erotic fetishes could be made out from the literature — which 
shall be nameless hcrt — rings, ircsses, handkerchiefs, and every article 
of dress or ornament, any one of which may and has become the 
only object capable of arousing genesic states. The very name 
assigned Ihem, amatory fetishes, is significant. So in the history of 
religions, men have made idols of almost every object in nature which 
has been focused on to arouse crude and perverse religious feelings 
and sentiments. There is almost nothing that has not been wor- 
shiped, and there is a long catalogue of even scatological religious 


rites. Nearly every act and altitude have somewhere l)ecn regarded 
as worship, and also have elsewhere been used as passional provoc- 
atires. It) both, th« normative, central experience is undeveloped or 
weakened and lost, and something more eccentric has been uncon< 
scioasly scired ityHin by the soul. wUich must have something to wor- 
ship and to love, however unworthy. Thus there is a correspondence 
that works out in great detail between amatory fetishism and the 
several forms ot idolatry, which resemble each oUier in many aspects 
01 their symbolisms. 

la Wc are told that by the methods of sexual selection the female 
has made the male according to her own tastes, that man is always 
passing woman's examination, that not only a large portion of his 
conduct that is addressed to her, but very much which is not cun- 
sciously so. does not escape lier Jjcen observation and unconscious 
merit-marking: and so conversely in other and manifold ways man 
his made woman. Psychology is lately learning more and more of 
the wide range and great power of this intersexual biotonic slinmlus. 
This, loo, has its religious analogue in the relatiotis of man to God. 
Each in a sense and to a degree makes the other in his own image. 
Uan is ever unconsciously drawn into likeness of the object of his 
worship, who is always an exemplar, whose perfections he would imi- 
tate and emulate. 

II. Nor must it be forgotten that many of these analogies are 
Um seen, not from the masculine, but from the feminine side. The 
Christian loves as the woman does, quite as much, if not more than as 
the nan docs. There is quiet, retirement, fond contemplation of the 
iiiaf[e and perfections of the dear one. There is passivity, inward- 
tvu, and virtues cultivated in secret seen by Heaven alone in order 
to draw down its benison or its favor. Heavenly love brings its griefs, 
iorrowj. disappointments, and anxieties, its hope deferred, its hours 
Mbra nothing is possible but placid resignation that can not act or 

13. Once more, love and religion arc analogous in that both can 

firify and lend the immense influence of their vitality to almost any 

and every act or object, can become gross, material, eccentric, and 

desiccated, and yet in periods of reawakening can slough off as dross 

all accretions, withdraw into central heights, fuid rcenforccmcnt in 

involution, and from tlience develop newer fornts of objective cx- 

pntsion. Perhaps nearly, if not quite. ;i]l forms arc deciduous and 

n«d to fall away at times and be rcplai-cd by the new growths of 

fpring-linir. The soul which can wurship or kindle love in every 

act or object needs to break away and fall back upon its own resources 

al times appointed, in order to realize and increase its own inner 

fortes, as reproduction brings regeneration. 

Such parallels might lie easily multiplied. Both love archaic 
phrases thai arc conventionalized, but antiquated and absurd if scru- 
tinized iu the light of modern knowledge. The medieval courts of 
love adjudicated lovers' quarrels and solved knotty points of manners 


as if they were holy liturg)-. The agape or love feast of the early 
Cliurch : cAiiticles like thjil of 5^t. fraiicis, who sang that he burned, 
languished, and pined of the wounds of love divine, would swim in 
love's sweet &ea, was its slave bound in chains of strong desire, would 
die iKiund in its furnace sunk in love's sweet swiion, etc.; hymns and 
songs from that of Solomon down; lives of celestial erotomaniacs 
like St. Theresa; the analogies between marriage as an institution and 
the Church; the circumstance that pathology in cither sphere is liable 
to involve that of the other, that true religion is far harder and rarer 
in childhood and sene&ccnce, thai religion is the chief corrective and 
regulator of degraded love — each of these might be heads of new 
chapters showing in detail their unity. 

Using this key. we lind that just as earthly love is at core a mo- 
ment of ravishing joy which created all the widening irradiations, 
made all the gorgeous plumage, created song and all the complicated 
phenomena of animal courtship, that has brought into being the 
whole range of secondary sexual qualities and their uses, and made 
the world beauteous with color and odor, as well as. perhaps, in- 
spired art and aU (he esthetic world for man, so religion has as its 
nucleus rare and ravishing moments of communion wiih the highest 
experiences which abide long with us and are worth a life of toil and 
sacrifice to attain, but which irradiate outward into a good life 
through an rndlcss range of riles, creeds, ascciiciftms. and cults for 
the body and for the soul, perhaps idolatrous and pagan superstitions, 
and fetish worship; yet all these are changing habiliments of heav- 
enly love put on and taken off to fit the exigencies of race, culture, 
environment. Both have their transports of bliss and rapture; both 
have iheir pangs of pain, fear, despair; both alternate between a feel- 
ing of absolute dependence and that of absolute freedom, between the 
sentiment of the eternal worth of the individual, when life abounds 
and may he violent, seeking to take the kingdom of heaven by force, 
and abject Massochlstic humility which longs to 1m? servile and to be 
passively seized and borne away by heteronomous powers. Both love 
and religion delight in incense and swinging ccn^^ers that ap|)cal to 
the sense of smelt ; both are liable to the extremes of orgy and sub- 
sequent apathetic reaction. The sarcous and celestial erotics both 
liavf their flagellations and their penances, and their beauteous vest- 
ments. Both have their prelude of danger, uncertainly, and possible 
loss- Both arc borne up on the wings of music and song, and both 
have thnr intonation and enchanlinents. Both worship and pray, and 
readjust the individual will to that of the adored being. Both have 
their manuals of devotion. Both hunger for a larger, fuller life, and 
have their pathology, fetishism, and formalism, their hj-pocrisies, their 
periods of revival, and their methodisms. 

True and deep religious experience Is almost impossible before 
adolescence, and disturbances in either sphere arc now li-ihlc (o affect 
the other. The birthday of the strongest passion is the day of the 
greatest need of religion, and is also the period when the calentures 


of both arc in greatest danger of becoming confused one with the 
]er, so Uiat devotional and passtonat stales may become mutually 
jvocative. If we see how the lower rouses the higher in some of 
be experiences of the medieval saints, monks and nuns, and other 
ucetics, we also see how the appeaE to the higher may rouae itii: lower 
ia some of the phenomena of modem revivalism, especially at camp- 
racetings. Both are liable in youth to be predominantly emotional, 
and the contiguity of emotional states is then most liable to produce 
extension of excitement to other areas by contagion.' Both are often 
at their best and purest at xdolcsccncc- It is only in later life that 
their spheres become more distinct. 

On the other hand, their differences are, as the world belter knows, 
many and great. The object of divine love is not sensuous or transi- 
tory, but spiritual and abiding. Precious as is the love of persons in 
itself and for its own sake, it is a symbol of that which is higher. 
If Dp to a certain degree of fervor, varying greatly with individuals, 
each strengthens and normalizes ihc other, beyond this point too great 
intensity of cither interferes with the other. Some may put all the 
ardor meant for husband and wife, and all the devotion due to chil- 
dren, into the love and service of God and of a future heavenly state, 
■Ittle nothing so emasculates piety a£ base or excessive eroticism. 
Plato, Spinoza, and many others, have shown that there Is an in- 
ttllectual love of the divine. God, however conceived, whether as 
incarnate or as the Stoic soul of the world, is an object ihat appeals 
to very different sentiments and faculties, and in a very different way 
frofn those evoked by a human personality ; prayer, worship, and 
KTvice take on new qualities and directions, and where the Divine 
Being be conceived as of the same sex as the worshiper or unsexed, 
&e above analogies pale in significance. 

I. In its most fundamental sense, conversion is a natural, 
nomuil, universal, and necessary process at the stage wlieii 
We pivots over from an autocentric to an heterocentric basis. 
Childhood must be selfish in the sense that it must be fed, shcl- 
Icrtd. clothed, tatight, and the currents of its environment set 

^The ficM impolse of t(cn!us, uiys Lombroso,' is often due to beaacy or lo love. 
• Knrtk becaine a poet when he wns foorlccD, upon seeing his Laura. Tmpreii«ion. 
^Ifiii geaenl. u U plain for many iiascy is now at its apogee. Youth it in a 
l^of latent uploiibility. KiT«cti, especially in ihe leatm of religian. are nftcn 
Wnuncutis, like a ludden rc-elation cLisprupurtJonale lu their cauici. Intcrme- 
^n Mitoi come to th« front temporuily and perhaps permanently. ErootiunoltEy 
■ODwnely nnttablc and easily influenced. The seiual psychopath, eif>ecially the 
'^hitt. it often nade to liy a »in[;lc vivid imprcstion at lliis tiisceplilile age, 
^nqwcial incidnitt arc not only vividly ajid permanently impressed upon the 
"Hid, btU become formative ccnier». 



toward and not from it. Again, infancy is generic and 
abounds in rudimentary physical and psycliic traits com- 
mon to many forms of liighcr anima! as well as of Iniman life. 
In the adolescent infancy of the soul a similar totalizing tend- 
ency appears on a liiglicr plane. Youth seeks to be, know, 
get, feel all that is highest, greatest, and best in man's estate, 
circumnutating in widening sweeps before it finds the right 
object upon which to climb. There are interpreted antici- 
pations of greater joy which only true marriage and parent- 
hood of body and soul can satisfy, foregleams of heroic 
achievement and secret " excelsior " ambitions. It is the glo- 
rious dawn of imagination, which supplements individual lim- 
itations and expands the soul toward the dimensions of the 
race. Some girls want to be romantically good and paragons 
of piety and beauty. Occasiwially a criiuinaloid boy secretly 
resolves to commit all the crimes and vices ever heard of. 
The mannerisms and affectations of superiors are put on. 
There are dreams of leadership, victory, and splendor anud 
the plaudits of an admiring world. All these more or less 
flickering and iridescent trailing clouds of glory uslier in a 
new inner dawn, when everything seems turning to gold at 
the touches of fancy, and that only poetry can ever describe, 
which it has not yet adequately done, but which I believe it 
is its very highest function to do. The flood-gates of higher 
heredity are open. Before this age children often resemble 
one parent or one side of the house, etc.; but now the traits 
of body or soul of the other parent or side appear, and the 
less remote forebears are heard from, a vast cloud of wit- 
nesses, so that it is no wonder, especially where ethnic stocks 
arc mingled, that cross-fertilizntion follows its law and pro- 
duces variety within the individual soul. Hence prepotent 
(tendencies of diverse kinds clash or cnnibine, as it were, at 
all angles and with all degrees of mutual arrest or reenforcc- 
ment. It is thus well for adolescents to have a series of in- 
terests, fevers, and even flings, because to find a life voca- 
tion in the first new field that opens has been well called as 
dwarfing as for a plant to go to seed from the first pair of 
cotyledons. Now, too, conic the reading crazes, the first at- 
tempts at poetry, dramatic or other arts, ideas of wealth, 
service, fame, and vows of sublime deeds. No age has such 



many-sided interests, and all without distraction. Nothing 
human is alien, and all this stretching of the soul to larger 
dimensions is nature's way of liberal culture to full-orbed per- 
fection. The ego would, in Guyau's phrase, expand itself to 
the uttermost, and act all parts in the Comhiic Humaine. If 
unchecked, in later life these ideals tend to exploit to the utter- 
most every sense and all experiences, to utilize all the maxims 
of expediency, like Marius the Epicurean, or to maximize in- 
dividuality, like tiocthc, and incline more to the best Hcllaiic 
than to the Hebrew or Christian types of life. 

But another voice is soon heard in the soul, which says : 
Renounce and ser\-e, life Is short, powers and opportunities 
are limited, suffering is needful to perfection, so obey, find 
the joy of sacrifice, get only to give. live for others, subor- 
dinate the will to live to love, or to offspring. Thus the 
ine\-ilable hour comes when all these vague masses of ances- 
iral reminiscences which our very heredity su^ests, and 
which are so much vaster than any individual life can express, 
must submit to what often seems the injustice or even the 
pathos of slowly progressive separate personal definiteness. 
The larger uaiura tiofi jiatitrala of the soul must gradually 
dfchne to dim subliminal regions, and the hunger for a more 
and fuller life and the desire to have the broadest possible 
experience can not be gratified in our own sublunary exist- 
ence. This suggests posterity as well as ancestry, or else an- 
other life, as a kind of psychoktnelic equivalent and a substi- 
tute where these promises, bankrupt here, will be redeemed. 
Hcrvce this is the great opportunity for the teachers of religicm, 
of ihe family, and of social life. These earlier, tender dreams 
nursed in secret, the incubation of which inclines to reticence 
and to solitude, which should be not only respected but fa- 
Torcd. are sure to pale or be shattered one by one by closer 
contact with the real world. The sense of imperfection and 
rncompleteness which inevitably supervenes is one cause of 
the mild melancholy so symptomatic of this climacteric period. 
The ulterior law o£ service and self-sacrifice, which seems at 
first to be contradictory of all thai has precefled, Ijegins to 
loom up. and the prolonged period of readjustments and sub- 
ordinations begins. Henceforth the race, not the self, must 
become supreme. 


THK !■-''"' 

toward ;iinl n"i ' 

alHminIs in riiiiii:' 

mon ti) many i"iii 

In the :nl{)k'sci'iii 

eiicy appfiirs •'■. 

pet, fwl all tl'..!' 


ohjfct iipi'U ■.. 

patiniis nt 1^- 

IukhI <>I 1"' 


rioiis (law:! ■ 

itatiuHS a: .. 

raci*. S';. . 

of l>ii'i\ , 

rrsi'K (.■- ■ 

TIic 11' 

T\k-w . 

the p:.. 


new ; 

the 1. . 


is it- 








- :!Klivi(luals and once as 

■,:eiet sagely says that the 

.;; in a nation is the way 

-. As it Iwcomes truly civi- 

■ lent, and become grathially 

The same is true of that 

_-y (lescrihes as adolescence. 

..- a spiritual aspect or potency 

.■■■<:i>n. True religion is nor- 

.- :nost comprehensive kind of 

; '.ecade is not too long and is 

. , : all that is ilivine and Inniian 

er self lieforc it is ended. Later 

■::■! the higlier social self. Com- 

:■.; point is somehow discernihle 

:.:.-r. Normal and iniperceptihle 

-."e traiisitittn is in fact the chief 

: <inos. \\"hile it involves Irans- 

xre ttf thought, conduct, and sen- 

'w'A after anntlier. and he so slow 

e longest and fullest hfetime and 

. this change tills and alone gives 

:-v,:y ni:irks the same pivotal point 

t- sc'.f-l'^ve merges in resignation 

.-:' v.'.iVA. l\el:gi>in has no other 

:"'.-.v.;:c c, :n]vtte. and tlie whole of 

.: .-.s '.•.''*: :-.i :'::e ii'.tcrcst of the race, 

* :■.:..:•. .■.vc . :\e and inseparable. 

:; ttV.'Csl processes arc 

r;.r':".:.:'- rhc :'.'i;iir))r nr 

"■. ;T..:-.v-.; ar.i! the gol(i».'ii 

•'■^-.-...r.-.zy ir.sdt"i]uaie aiiJ 

^ ■ — ::".:.: vf ;hf licaiiti- 

■:.". i-.i'. ■■ :::2: ilu- great 

: .- •.r:rr. c::-.p:y hyavoiis 

: .,-:-:- Ji:.'.::>: mural ity, 

: . ■■■ .r.-rrr-.f. One of 

:. : .:?: :r.c.-e ir.^tiiicts. 

> ..: :.::■. tx-.rcT-i?. and 

- >: .U5ri:r o: human 

: ■■ ?.; thj". ".hev are not 


ih))3r;itc, but only Lvlon^ to difTcrciit strata of tlic soul, and culminaie 
in iliffcreiit perinfls of life. First, life is ascendent, and then, at the 
period of iiivohition, no one is hartronizctl with the law of his ovm 
being who dova not feel the pasiiion of surrender. 

II. When upon this background of nonnatity, which is 
still discernible as tlie basis uf our iinfallen nature, is devel- 
oped the pathology of sin. both the struggles and changes are 
profoundly intensified, esi»ecially the negation motives. How 
real and potent this factor is, especially its sexual note, we 
saw in Giapttrrs VI and VII. From vagiie impulsions toward 
completeness and a mortii life essentially objective, youth is 
often smitten with a sudden sense of wrong within as if con- 
science now came suddenly into function. Introspection di- 
vides the soul into an ethical dualism. Reflection on right 
ami wrong in both the concrete and abstract brings home tlic 
fact that general good-will and intention coexist with evil in 
thought, word, and deed. The new moral world into which 
the soul now breaks is a vast and complex one. 

Kozle found some score or more Gennan words expressing 
childish and youthful fatdts than those specifying the seven 
hundred and forty-nine diseases standardized by the English 
Riarmacological Society. Most of all these, as well as the 
«vm deadly sins, the candid soul can detect, at least in germ, 
in itself. There is pri<ie, supcrhia, by which man fell when 
ttte Tempter promised him that he should be as God. which 
Uosts, kills sympathy, leads to excessive adornment of the 
kxiy, arrogance of wealth, beauty, talents, and birth, and 
*hich makes meekness and luimility so hard; avarice, the root 
<rf e\-il, that makes cruelty, lust of conquest, slavery, covet- 
fflisncss, and gambling, till men coin and sell their very souls 
fcr lucre, although it is happily mainly a vice of the old and 
rot of the young, and can be best safeguarded in youth by 
leaching that wealth is but a means to higher ends and that 
the middle station between poverty and riches is best; envy, 
'Jf pain at another's good, very distinct from Nemesis as sor- 
^w at the prosperity of the wicked and joy hi their fall, 
*Wch prompts murder, slander, gossip, and detraction, and 
«I's love of merit for its own sake : appetite, which may take 
the form of gluttony, for which the later Roman Empire was 



SO notorious, or drunkenness, next the most insidious vice of 
modem youth, for which even partial pledges not to treat or 
drink except at meals may save many ; wrath, which is sinful 
if in excess or wrongly directed, and easily degenerates to 
peevishness and irritability at trifles; laziness, sloth, or flc- 
fi'rftV,* psyche torpor, which predisposes to discouragement. 
WeHschmcrz and pessimism, the op|josites of courage and 
strenuousness ; and last and chiefly, luxury or licentious- 
ness, which prompts insidiously to sin in thought, word, 
and deed. 

These seven sins, which the Catholic Church thought most 
virulent, and from which it held all the others could be de- 
rived, which were often elaborately personified, perhaps as 
dancing in hideous mien about a " lusty juventus " or con- 
tending with the seven cardinal virtues as to which of them 
should rule him, are all of them easily found if the soul is 
once morally introverted and enters upon a rigid self-exami- 
nation to inventory them. The stlf-revclation that results is 
often appalling. There is no more innocence, but self-accusa- 
tion and indictment in countless forms. To be under con- 
viction of sin was the first of the old forma! steps that ended 
in conversion. This stage has its familiar litany. There is 
nothing good in us, all is cornipt. we are dead in trespasses 
and sin. All we do, think, say, feel, is evil, to which we are 
inordinately prone. At first we hold ourselves personally re- 
sponsible, and later realize that our nature is corrupt, that 
we are conceived and born in iniquity, that it is a taint that 
dates from the origin of man. Wc are sold, led captive, en- 
chained, poisoncfl to the heart with its vims, hmind to a body 
of death meriting only destruction. The descriptions of this 
stage, sometimes even in Puritan environments, have been 
often superlative and even yellow, so that if the emotional 
utterances of saints concerning their own ethical state were 
taken literally they would be everywhere cast out of society 
as moral lepers. 

The crude psychology of the Oiurch describes, loo, a kind 
of counter conversion of souls that glory in their own utter 
iniquity, and this was the signature of diabolism and witch- 

■ June* Stalker : Th« Seven Deadly SId». London, iqoa 


craft. Evil was exultant, accepted as good, as modern litcra- 
itire descril»es monsters who would exploit and exhaust every 
possibility of vice and crime and dihgently extiqjate every 
virtue and even semblance of it they could detect in their 
own souls. The sense of sin is the most intense degree of 
self-consciousness, and jaded and inverter! natures, like Bau- 
delaire's, have found the extreme of moral titillation in de- 
scribing an au rcbours world, where all that was worst was 
regarded as best, everything most liuly was the purest vicious- 
ness. and flagitiousness was made the supreme object of pious 
aspiration and endeavor. Every rupture with virtue gave 
new exultation, and hves have been solemnly devoted to sin, 
as its saints and apostles have vowed to cultivate only " the 
flowers of hell." Happily there are not two ilitTcreut king- 
doms in the moral world both alike primitive and organic, 
and hence this is psychologically impossible. The morbid tis- 
sue of disease is a product of growth |>crvcrtetL It develops 
only by the momentum of normal vitality. There arc no in- 
depemlent morbific principles, but only symptom-groups of 
decay, as death is simply the absence of life, and all persona- 
tions of it are descriptions of the realm jioetic, so that deprav- 
ity can never from its very nature be total, so essentially 
Mgaiive and self-destructive is it. Goodness, like life. ten<l5 
to siir\*ival, and evil is self-annihilatrng. Manichei!;m is as 
bderodoxal to evolution as it has been, since Augustine, to 

Thus the first and most immediate reaction in the soul to 
tliis new sense of sin is pain, not pleasure. It expresses itself 
ii«tirctively. and always in some of its many forms of regret 
—penitence, mourning, grief, compunction, remorse. It 
prides, stings, burns, wounds, brings restlessness and anxiety, 
asense of oppression, as midcr a heavy loa<l. Psyclialgia is in- 
ferable, and a sense of pure pain, if not per se im|)ossible, as 
»mc now argue, creates a tension that finds vent along lines 
of least resistance, which varies with individual diathesis, 
l^'tmctinics physical symptoms of a convulsive or hysteroid 
^)TW predominate, or the involution may be so deep as to in- 
Hit movement and cause the torpor of misery. While per- 
**ial and avoidable sins are most prominent in consciousness, 
3 feeling of individual responsibility brings a sense of guilt 



into the foreground. Penalty is merited and feared, perhaps 
in tlie vague form of nameless apprehension at first, slowly 
taking on the definite imagery so familiar in steriier religious 
environments ; Deity is offended. Clod's wrath and hate fan- 
cied, or a more impersonal jnstice violated, which must be 
not so much appeased as compensated. It Is in these condi- 
tions that penance may become a veritable passion, and all 
forms of self-denial and mortification, flagellations, fasting, 
and exposure may become enthusiastic, that punitive venge- 
ance l>e meted out to the offending body or soul. The heart 
cries out for condign pnnishment ; because merited it must be 
immediate, and if self-inflicted, there is added merit and a 
reen forcement of the new good rcsohitions. 

Thus the fnills of a sense of sin arc: i, pain; 2, guilt; 
3. craving for just punishment; and now 4. confession. To 
proclaim what is bad in us is to exteriorize and alienate it. 
The soul judges and condemns what was a vital part of itself. 
The fission begins when we realize stn in our inmost selves: 
and to set it forth in words openly to others is a much furUier 
and often vei'y costly step in its extradition. The psychology 
of the confession that leads on to forsaking is deep and com- 
plex. It exposes the ]>enitent to censure and perliaps con- 
tempt, upsets the good niime rather to be chosen titan riches, 
brands as God's convict, and thus psydiically isolates, and is 
a declaration of moral bankriiptcy that humiliates ethical 
pride. By showing others how vile we seem to ourselves, 
and taking them behind the veil of conventionalities, re- 
straints, and hypocrisies which had disguised our leprosy, we 
find at once a certain relief propurtionale to the strain these 
falsities caused us, and some energy is freed for inner 
rcconstnictinn. Again, the social pain of avowal of evil is so 
poignant and perhaps intolerable tbnt it prompts to rebuild the 
reputation we have shattered nr impaired. But this is not the 
most or best, for the very act of putting our sins into words 
and acknowledging them to others means that the long-fcs- 
lering sores have suppurated itilo consciousness and are now 
come to a head, broken and discharging, and healing processes 
are already under way. Our loathsomeness ts itself incipient 
recover>'. The rash and tetter of evil is salv:itive. and thus 
again we see that consciousness is a remedial process, a thera- 


peutic agent. The more %'ital a tissue, organ, or function the 
less conscious wc are of it, and the weaker or more decadent 
it is the more it cumcs to the front. 

A fifth symptom-group in the pathology of the sin-sick 
soul is very grave, though not universal, wlicn culpability for 
all witting and unwitting personal sins leads on to a sense 
of hereditary corruption, and we feel ourselves victims of an- 
"cestral vice. This i>resents to the sense of responsibility its 
oldest and hardest problem, and has been the incentive to the 
boldest of all the theoretical constructions of speculative the- 
ology. The fact that we snfFer for the sins of our forcliears or 
mid-parents back to .Adam, or the amphioxus or even amrelm, 
challenges every instinct of distributive justice, and has led 
more sovOs to negation, revolt, and <lespair than any other 
fact in the moral world. Repudiate all idea of justice and 
goodness at the helm of things, curse and die, is the all too 
obvious suggestion that unnumfjcred ingenuous hearts have 
tdccn. This is also the tap-root of pessimism and sensualism. 
Vat fall of man in the first was a mythopeic postulate to ex- 
plain the origin, and his restoration through the second Adam 
W8 a Pauline effort to explain, by a parallelism more rhe- 
loficii than logical, a mode of extinction of the inherited taint 
of Eden. Here in our biological age, returns show that the 
jouthful seeker after righteousness is often most enmeshed, 
n there is a cure as vicarious as the infection, and accessible, 
on the easiest terms, to all. then llicrc is no injnstice to the 
individual, no matter how contaminated his blood. The ben- 
ison must be as nearly as possible the exact counterpart of 
^c malison. This stupendous problem with which Paul 
paj^led has yet had no other solution in the world save the 
Oriental one of resignation and renunciation. 

Our Western and democratic demand to be judged solely 
W our own merits or demerits is a product of overblown 
Titanic heaven-storming individuality: and its demand to 
open the debt and credit account-book of life with a clean 
page is itself preposterous. F.vcn if we could conceivably ap- 
ply antidotes for the evils we ourselves have brought upon 
our own nature, we can never hope to neutralize those of all 
Our ascendents; while the very age of the human race as fiow 
_ Conceived and our long prehuman and animal pedigree make the 



defects we inheril seem far more inveterate and helpless than 
they ever could before. 

Harmatophobia is intensified by calamity that brings out the next 
world, prompting sclf-stupration and the misologism that loves to 
sec reason collapse and often plunges the soul into deep melancholy 
and despair. Horror of sin may make Bclf-morlification a irenxy. 
It was this that made Loyola and his disciples develop the me- 
chanics of devotion or sclf-imniotatioi). We can not understand the 
satisfaction that came lo many a saint by never eating enough; hold- 
ing stones in the mouth during Lent; saying the psalter in ice-water; 
in sleeping between corpses in a cufRn or on a cross, and that never 
enough; exposing himself to gnats; wearing crowns of thorns; or 
the fanaticism that in the fourteenth century, as a result of the 
black death, made men flagellants and developed many a spiritual 
exercise. Thus the Mafijiiise of Penalia was slowly possessed by 
the impulse to desert her adoring lover and bare her back to daily 
scourging by ber maid. Men have rivaled each other in aiistcrilies, 
self-torture, and even martyrdom. Recluses cultivated a physical 
moralily, saying the (.Tiurch service one word at a breath; meditating 
on the hidden meanings of each syllable ; thinking of saints while they 
ate; fixing the eye almost to the point of catalepsy on skulls or sacred 
symbols: living in the dark; kneeling, lying, praying in fantastic attt- 
tudcs. seeking purity and expiation. They cociucttcd not only with 
hunger but with disease, forgetting that the first makes men irritable, 
and the second often devilish. In Chariresisc. inspired by St. Bruno, 
they vowed silence to all save God alone. They swore poverty and 
chastity ; reduced the surface of contact with the world to its minimum 
to attain gnosis; "held the flesh to be the devil's knight," in order to 
put ofT ihe old man and his deeds, seeking to tame the carnal wolf, 
to guard ihe Lord's flock. They hoped to he perfect through suffer- 
ing, and in dcliria of virtue strove for self-mastery, discipline, and 
penitential aloncmetil, for this world is inversely as the other, and 
all this pain here will be rcw.Trded by clcmal joy. 

Allhongh ilcinroth, llie leading German authority on insanity in 
bis day, dcfenik-<] with great philosophical acumen the proposition 
that all mental diseases are caused by sin, and Idler and Morel were 
somewhat inclined to the same opinion, these views fell into general 
neglect. More recently, however. Kraussold ' has sought, with ihe 
resources of expert knowledge of insanity at his coinm.'md, to establish 
I definite connection between melancholy and a sense of guilt, and 
to thus ciTcct a renewed junction between medicine, religion, and phi- 
losophy which have ht-en so long separated. He holds that the self- 
accusations sii common in melancholia, and which have so long been 
thought to he imaginary, are often true and rest upon a basis of fact. 
Melancholiacs, he urges, often see their own lives truly; their sell- 


reproaches are ju*ii6cd; they have been bad and sinned away Uieir 
youth or roanliood. 'ITiesc writers, like many modem pessimists, in- 
cline to the " luxury of woe " theory, and so consider mania and melan- 
cholia as less contrasted on the alghcdonic scale than most have 
deemed thcin, but they rig'hUy argue that it makes a great difference 
in the proper treatment of each case whether the sin is real or is the 
product of morbid fnncy. Kraussold suggests that such cases now 
prefer to consult a physician rather than a clergyman, because it eases 
the conscience to be thought more sick than gutlty. Me made a com- 
niendablc. if but partially succcissful. attempt to penetrate the extreme 
reticence which veils in such obscurity the causes of depre&sive states 
of mind in order to find in specific cases the sin at its core. Under 
the stimulus of a general sense of guilt patients examine all their 
lives and fix upon some petty real or fancied case, where, if they 
had (lone differently, dire results would have been avuidod, Tltis is 
often enormously magnified by the morbid cnmlional state and by 
friends; normal associations, habitual memories, and lapses of thought 
ue powerless to reduce the hypcrirophied ideas or impressions. Of 
ill delusions of depressive states, that of having committed some sin 
or error Uial is physiologically or judicially unpardonable, some 
daak most common, and this is, (Krhaps, the most fit and adequate cn- 
prasion of the depressed tone of consciousness. Even if hypochon- 
diiual diseaa^e or loss of property or reputation haunt the mind, this is 
often thought to be self-caused and therefore culpable, or an expression 
of teiribution. 

■Mthotigh it is so extremely difHcult to gel at the menial states 
of melancholiacs that we are very far from having the desiderated 
iubj.tks showing what percentage of cases have this genetic factor, we 
nav ask. Who is free from a sense of sin, error, or imperfection? We 
tU have our weaknesses, and if change of occupation or failure in 
botincss, or isolation, etc., free our thoughts from wonted channels, if 
liatJw weakens our nervous fiber, and especially if niisforkine, afllic* 
tioo, or sorrow arouse, as they always do (so animistic are we at bot- 
tom toward the universe), ihe question. "Was this deserved?" then 
refflemlwred offenses lung latent in mcmnn,' often revive, the cale- 
twkat imperative is heard from, and the gnawings of conscience 
■ly ikcpen to remorse. Vain and wasteful though wc are often 
•oM regrets are, their strength is one of the great factors of life. Not 
<^h' grief, but atonement for the past, is as basal as the struggle for 
»«rvival, and self-infliclcd penalties of every conceivable form attest 
in nun a real passion for punishment as a means of purification and 
•Wiverancc, which in abnormal cases vents itself in fantastic modes 
of stlf-torture and even suicide. A sense of justice, one of the most 
Pntnc expressions of ihc social instinct, however wrongly inter- 
PWed in the past, always impels toward reparation, while all who 
»rs sympathetically acquainted with the vicious and criminal know 
'liai the ■■ heavenly powers " arc very real and often all-dominant in 
lite rrrabund soul, and that despair may rouse some minds Lo frenzy 


and plunge oThcrs into apathy. Indeed, a sense of sin is only shown 
to be more vital by ha\-ing some power to explain, as Jesus did la I 
rule, the processes of those bereft of reason. ' 

Kierkcngaard. a theologian, had long before undertaken to treat | 
the psychology of sin and conversion as resting essentially on the; 
feeling of anxiety of which psychiatry now makes such comprehensive '. 
use.' Older writers — Cullen, Bocrhaave, Arei^, Tralcs, and others— 1 
have noted the tendency of depressive states of mind to be followed by? 
euphoria anil exaltation, and now Ziehen argues for a sequent stage oV 
hyperiliuniia, or inordinate cheerfulness, in which most melancholiacs, 
recover, while most of the rest pass over to mania. Bcvan-LcwisJ 
thinks a depressive stage "precedes all forms of mental disease";] 
Fere' holds that anger in (he insane is often a sthenic reaction to < 
depression ; and Magnan,' in a masterly study, has laid great stress 
upon the tendency of melancholy with delusions of persecution to ' 
change to anger and perhaps homicidal impulses when the victim ^ 
hiuistlf assumes the rule of persecutor after reacting into more or' 
less fu]l-b!own delusions of greatness; he thinks that sexual rhythm 
increases both the depth and extent of the denudation of the higher .< 
cenicTS, and makes the cuphorious states, when the inevitable reaction 
brings them on, all the more excessive and abandoned. It is in i 
perio<iic and more spccificalSy in circular types of insanity, however, j 
that we find this tendency of pleasurable and painful states of mind 
to react into each other, best illustrated.' Each has many forms and] 
symptoms. Among periodic diseases those in which psychic symp- ' 
toms play a prominent part form the largest class. Kirn thinks most ' 
of them develop during adolescence, and that they arc common again] 
at the climncteric." Tlie two extremes may or may not be separated 
by a clear and normal interval. Interesting, too, although not conclu- 
sive, is Kostcr's laborious statistical effort to show that these changes 
from exaltation to depression coincide with the approach and re* 
cession of the moon, which is from forty-seven to fifty-five thousand 
miles nearer the earth in perigee than in apogee.' 

Morbid depression in its first onset often coincides with what 
Bevan-Lcwis calls a decline of object -consciousness and an in-1 
crease of consciousness of self. States of reverie or sclf-absorp-^ 

' Zur Psychologic det SUndc, dcr Bckchnins und des CUnbeoa; tr. by CSu 
Sehrempf, iSS'*. 

*Ftri: La pRlhologic dc» !■ morions. Pftn*. rSqi, p. 352, 

* Magnan : I'lychiatTJiche Vorletunj^en. Hcfl I. EitpecLally Lecture VII, 

* For a concise diarACl«riKatiun, see Kr«epelm'> Psyvhialrie, fourth edition, 
'^9^- P- sSieisef. 

'Ludwig Kirn: Die periodischen Psychoses. StnttKVl, 1878. EtpecEally p. 

*UebeT die Ccsctic dcs pcriudischen Irrescini und rerwAndler ZuttJlDdc voa 
SwiitSls Rath. Dr. K<Mtcr, 1882. See alto T. 1.. Bolton's Khylhmi. \m. Joor. 
uf i*ty., January, lt!94, vol. vi, pp. I45-138, 


don gain at the expense of interest In outer things. The mus- 
cular factor of thought diminishes and the mind fails to grasp and 
unite (he factors of the environment. Volition is restricted, while 
both mental states and automatisms become segregated and, a.<i it were, 
(eralizcd from the control or domestication of attention and tlie ego. 
Attempts to explain things result in a new nexus of ideas, and be- 
eiuse the mental disaggregation makes problems seem simple and 
therefore their solutions easy, there is a new sense of freedom, and 
the old asiioctalive plexus is loosened as another self or a new pcr- 
ionality emerges which as a product of devitalization is on a lower 
level, because "a weakening of associative aflinity arouses corretative 

This illustrates three laws of great significance and pertinence: 
(fl) the power of consciance and especially of a sense of guilt, (^) 
die dissociative action of depression upon the psychic plexus which 
may prepare for a recombination of elements on a higher, as in mor- 
bid cases it more often docs on a lower, plane, and (c) the deep 
tendency of our nature (o react from pain lo joy, which is the moment 
of conversion, and all ihemorc intense hy contrast and resilience. Here, 
l|[ain, especially in the abnormal oscillation, sex, if not a key. supplies 
Jttggestive analogy. Nothing s.avc hunger alone is judged from such 
different standpoints by the same person, and reversal of view-point 
i] nowhere so sudden and extreme in so brief a period of time. Noth- 
ing so upsets the poise and stability of the soul as excess, whether by 
natural or unnatur-il methods. From passionate love and desire that 
myreach an intensity that breaks through every restraint of interest 
in the well-being of self or of one most loved, of decency and law, the 
dtsequilibrated soul may pass in a brief interval to post-coital rage 
spinst its beloved, of sometimes homicidal intensity, or to tlic depths 
Di self-abasement, despair, and perhaps suicide. It is sins in this 
Beld. as we just saw. that arc so often found lo be at the heart of 
melancholy where psychically induced by qualms of conscience, and 
•hen somatic causes arc primary and the depressive delusions 
SKondary, the latter arc peculiarly prone lo be of a sexual character. 
Il is a change in the wider irradiation of Ibis function, especially at 
>Wcicence and senescence, when its instability is greatest, thai is so 
pftm felt to need an explanation, which makes the hypersensitized 
»Bd abnormal soul in its illusions construe the universe as if il all 
centered about his own person. In the moment of temptation, all tense, 
t*eer. self-assertive and aggressive, resourceful and masterful in 
^*^rcoming obstacles or meeling objections, ready to make any pledge 
« 10 violate any vow, to face any danger, lo meet any enemy, and to 
«i^rrute every scruple; and ihcii a little later, abject, contrite, a prey 
iDDaiDeless fears, weak and irritable, perhaps with complete reversal 
c[ feeling, temporary paralysis of will and a dull stagnation of 
taught, and with a totally new scenery of images and associations as 
4 a new personality had supervened. These arc not exaggerations 
*>f Mhat the exercise of a function normally healthful may 'and often 



docs become not only in the enfeebled, degenerate, and corrupt, bat, fo 
some L'xtcnt, in immature and callow iialiircs as well, es|)»'>ally when 
wrongly set in external circumstances and methods, and in the false 
perspective of popular ignorance and misinformation. Here, then, 
wc must seek one of the keys not only lo asceticism and celibacy, 
much unhappy domestic life, and many of the secrets of divorce courts, 
but lo many of the more highly saturated and otlierwisc inexplicable 
phenomena in religious life. 

Gautama's long stmijgle with the problem of pain and evil 
in the world led him to a very different conclusion in the law 
of Kamia. We have many lives behind us, as well as be- 
fore. We reap oiily what we have sowed in the lives that 
preceded the present. These, have been such that no one can 
make himself perfect in a single life. Many are needed to 
work our way upward away from sin and sorrow. Therefore 
let us be kind and compassionate, even to animals, practise 
charity, temperance, eradicate evil and beautify our souls. 
turn if possible alt affection into one great compassion for all 
that lives, and then wc shall need no worship, prayer, priest- 
hood, or even persunal God, but can at last, when renuncia- 
tion is complete, tniter the great peace of which we know noth- 
ing, and find the only comfort possible in the hour of death in 
thinking on our good deeds. 

'Ihe Giristian suhitioti, if we interpret it in tenns of mod- 
em psychology rather than in those of dogma, may be thus 
stated: Having tried to look the fact of our departure from 
nature and our ideal squarely in the face, and realized how 
far we are from what we would be, or might have been with 
other antecedents — itself a discipline of the highest ethico- 
psychic value — we shall all, even the best of us, find sooner 
or later that our imperfections of nature and nurture are too 
many and great to be overcome by any eflfort we can possibly 
make. Habits and instincts are too much for our will. The 
good we can do is partial, or lacks spontaneity; it is an arti- 
fact wc have to force upon ourselves. Therefore, the only 
course is to stnp special and tnultifarions striving and fall 
back on more generic and unconscious impulsion; with a 
changed heart and a new affection, having fallen in love with 
righteousness, surrender to this new love; make it- supreme 
and complete; let it have free course, striving only to remove 


obstacles; feed its (lame by pious exercise; fan it by every in- 
spiring example, especially by that of the great Exemplar; 
be tins love's slave, its victim, follow its eveiy behest; tnist 
it blindly as the only pure and unfallen thing* in us, feel its 
very season supremely holy, and fix it on the highest object; 
aspire even more than endeavor; ciinilate everything tiiat in- 
spires us, for love is as old as life itself and stronger, and is 
lliercforc alone capable of reconstructing it from the bottom, 
h is tlius the power that makes for righteousness in the soul. 
III. Intellectual reconsl ruction, or, in Herbartian phrase, 
working over ideas, is almost a synonj-m of mental growth. 
In childhowl credulity amounts almost to hypnotic sugges- 
tibility. Not only is cver)-thing believed, but the faintest hint 
starts the exuberant imagination to vividness often hallu- 
cinatory. This power to believe the false and even the absurd, 
in infancy, is not defect, but excess of psychic vitality. Tlic 
narrow horizon of reality within the juvenile ken is not 
enough, and the world of fancy and myth is needed to sup- 
pJcment it. Never is receptivity so near to creative energy, 
and this is why genius is defined as the preservation into ma- 
ture years of tlie fecund mental spontaneity of childhood. 

John Fiskc says: " I remember distinctly the conception which I 

liid formed when five ycarb of age. I imagined a narrow office just 
■^cT the zenith, with a tail standing-de&k running lengthwise, upon 
tthicb lay several open ledgers bound in coarse leather. There was 
w roof over this office, and the walls rose scarcely five feet from the 
Bcor, so iliat a person standing at the desk could look out upon the 
■liofc world. There were two pcrtans at the desk, and one of them — 
itaO, slender man. of aquiHne features, wearing spectacles, with a pen 
■"litsband and another behind his car — was God. The other, whose 
*ppearancc I do not distinctly recall, was an attendant angel. Both 
*f>c diligently watching the deeds of men and recording them in the 
'*%«. To my infant mind this picture was not grotesque, but in- 
(Silih solemn, and the fact that all my words and acts were thus 
"ntien down, to confront me at the day of judgment, seemed 
"'ttrillj' a matter of grave concern." ' 

How very crude religious imagery of God, heaven, death, 
I's". angels, ghosts, witches, prayers, Church ceremonies, etc., 
>*. is \^ell illustrated in a valuable and suggestive though 

'The Idea at God *» Affectrd by Modem Knowledge. Boslun, 18S6, p. 116 



coniessedly local and incomplete slutty of this in California 
on a basis of lo^i composi lions upon these subjects.* God, 
e. g., m^y be imaged as a benign or cruel gray-bearded, blue 
giant; the dcVil as pictured on labels of deviled ham, or in a 
Punch and Judy show, etc. While these crass conceptions 
caused vague questionings sometimes as early as from four 
years to ten, the doubting spirit in this field culminated at 
thirteen or fourteen, when criticism seems more |>ersistent than 
Inler. and Karl Barnes thinks that at this periwl special effort 
should he made to help the child to correct and adjust his most 
grotesque ideas. The first appearance of this spirit is often 
seen in the phrases: "I think," "have been told," " wa.s 
taught," " they say," " I used to think." and in the use of " if," 
'* but." and " perhaps." Barnes thinks that " from fifteen to 
eighteen there is no such persistent exercise of the critical 
judgment in matters theological as there is between twelve and 
fifteen," as if former perplexities Iiad been temporarily laid 
aside. -The more gross and material the imagination and per- 
haps tlie younger the child, when religious ideas are instilled 
and imagery fonne<l, the more inade()uate the latter becomes, 
and. therefore, the more drastic tlie coullict later. The con- 
clusion of this paper is that " the period of most intense critical 
activity in tlicological directions seems to be that of pulierty. 
Some special effort should be made at that time to rearranging 
and adjusting philosophical and theological conceptions." 
Doubts first appear as checks or inhibitions of the illusions of 
e;ttra belief or Abcrglaitbc. The overblown bubbles of fancy 
often break because they collide, and lose a given sum of arrest 
in the familiar way described by Taine. In our modern and 
especially in the American world, the spirit of questioning and 
even criticising where children should only sympathetically 
appreciate and admire comes all too soon. The rapid expan- 
sion of the Miental horizon and the new powers of body and 
soul necessarily involve a change of standpoint and of belief. 
Hence there is skepticism, which etynioloj^tcaljy means look- 
ing around, and doubt, whicli means hesitation between two 

'Theological Lift of a Califuniiii rhitd. P«l. Sein.. Tiecemtjer. 1893, vol. 1^ 
p. 442. Sec &1&a my Cunlcuu ul ChiMren't Miiidn. PeU. Sem., Jnne, 189], voL 
\, p. 161 ttstf. 


views or acts. This occurs at nearly atl stages of life, but is 
far more radical and comprehensive throughout this period, 
which is its grand climacteric. 

Rect ideations concerning Santa Qaus, fairy tales, clas- 
sical gods and myths, and popular supersiitions are made 
naturally and almost tmcon scion sly as the new desire for cer- 
tainty slowly arises. Children seek proof by touching, quot- 
ing, wagers, ordeals, ceremonial oaths, in ways which have 
been described with much detail by Mr. M. H. Small.' Crude 
imagery is normally shed by vital processes, better described 
as exfoliation and desquamation than by psychologic or re- 
ligious terms, as growth substitutes larger and fitter ideas. 
The reasons why religious doubt is so hard and sometimes 
tragic arc manifold; the bad pedagogy that insists on the 
literal historic truth of all Scripture itself, due to the low 
vitality of religious life, the way in which virtue is thought 
10 depend on belief, which makes reconstruction morally dan- 
gnous, and the virus of orthodox theology, which makes no 
provision for growth, — all this is calamitous for youth. The 
gravest doubts of this kind are at first of certain miracles, the 
morality of some of the Old Testament heroes, and perhaps 
of Jthovah, or the goodness of Ciod himself in permitting suf- 
ferirfj and sending so many to hell, special answers to prayer, 
the Judgment Day, etc. Later come doubts of the Trinity and 
the deity of Jesus, his resurrection, supernatural birth, fore- 
ordination, and immortality. Where the clay of dogma i.t 
tamped down too hard about the roots of the growing soul 
other the latter is arrested or else doctrines arc niptured. Of 
2ll the outrages and mutilations practised upon youth by wcH- 
raeaning adults, insistence on such dogmas upon pain of moral 
offense is perhaps the very most disastrous and antircligious 
in its results, for it enlists the conscience of the individual at 
the age when it is most vigorous and tender, against his own 
""nnal mental development. 

As I write I have before mc several hundred personal rccordi 
"Tiidi I have liccn accumulating for years atid others made for me by 
'occnbers of otlter faculties, showing the acutcncss of these struggles. 

'Uethod< of MaDifcsling the Instinct for Ccrlaiiity. Ped. Sent., January, 1898, 
*^». pp. 313-380. 



wiiicli have led some, including three of my own students, lo sutdd«, 
and upset more for years, which tliey count as lost or as years o£ 
mental obsession with permanent impairment of soul. In over seven 
hundred returns from young men religiously reared and in Protestant 
colleges, there were very few who had not wrcMlcd with wrrious doubts 
of one or more of these or kindred religious inculcations of their 
parents. In healthy souls these siruggles are in secret. Sometimes ihey 
arc mild, and Mimetimcs almcist dcsiKratc. Often skepticism is ex- 
pressed and aggressive, but in the majority of cases the doubts are 
silent and often half-unconscious, even in men who outwardly conform 
to influences about them and perhaps actively cooperate in religious 
work. Sometimes protestations of faith arc thus made vehement, and 
even attempted proof of a somewhat strident or falsetto nature may be 
a weapon against one's own doubts. The heinousne&s with which such 
scruples are still regarded i» many academic and church centers hu 
begotten a strange psychosis, and unpcdiigogic treatment of this has 
driven many of the best youth from religious associations and affixed 
a certain stigma to men of exceptional sincerity and candor. Happily 
this slate of things is now steadily improving and, wc may trust, will 
soon be past. 

The Catholic Church at its best, with its voluminous pic- 
torial and ceremonial expressions of the religious sentiment, 
has certain advantage over the less objective Protestant cults 
at this stage, and our own returns amply prove that the re- 
Itgiotis imagery of young Protestant children is more crude 
and pagan in form than that of ("atholics. The rate and 
degree of progress from Rome toward reason, which fits 
the needs or measures the vigor of each soul, would with 
proper care and surroundings be no harder to insure than 
from the more fctishistic point of departure commonly found 
outside Catholicism. The ideal education of the religious 
nature, if we ever attain tt, will involve as one important fac- 
tor mucli saturation of the juvenile fancy with the best cre- 
ations of the mythopeic imagination, coarse at first, but with 
increasing refinement with age, and progressive inferences 
from what each symbol, picture, tale, image, rite, or dogma 
says, to what it means, until the expanding mind has advanced 
just as far toward complete enfranchisement frum all supersti- 
tion and doctrine, and in the substitution, point by point, of 
immanence for transcendence, as its own mental powers 

Children's rehgious conceptions should at least not be sys- 


tcniatizcd or stereotyped, or jjrowtli will be checked. The 
Bible for childhood should be pure literature, with no trace of 
dogma. It is simply bad Bible pedagogy that makes children 
precocious and sirideiit skeptics about tlie grand stories and 
miracles of Scripture, while tales from Homer, Shakespeare, 
Greek tragedy, and Dante maintain their sway over the heart, 
unchallenged by the callow intellect. The Bible moves, edifies, 
and shapes the soul, and we are content to leave it to expert 
scholars to inquire Itow much or how little historical validity it 
has; and, whatever ihcir verdict, it will have little effect on 
our feelings or practical reaction to Scripture. The havoc 
that dogma has wrought in the religious nature and nurture 
of the young by regarding the Bible as a text-book of the- 
ology rather than a guide to life, as itself literally inspired 
rather than the most inspiring of books, is none the less dis- 
astrous because well meant. The very idea of orthodoxy of 
belief in this field or of formulated creed is ominous for youth. 
Theology at its best is an attempt to describe religious expe- 
riences, especially feelings and intuitions. Tlie need of it 
arises when llie latter are past and lapse into the domain of 
rocnory. When they are most vividly present they need no 
txplanation, for they are not symbols of something else, but 
intiinsic and essential reality themselves. Tnic religion cul- 
iftnates in youth, and doctrine is its substitute and memorial 
in maturity and old age. Youth has far more to teach in this 
6eM, if it only knew how, than it can learn from age. The 
tins of orthodoxy ag^ainst youth were relatively unknown in 
incient Greece or in ancient India, but are a peculiarity of 
Ciristian lands and centuries. Hitt for this, youth has great 
facility in changing its ideas. Indeed, the reality and the 
rapture of growth and progress owe no small part of their 
vital heat to the combustion of wide acreages of errors and 
false beliefs that attend every step on the upward way of 
aienta] development, for mental health and longevity consist 
in a never-ending working over of the contents of conscious- 

We may dream of intuitive natures, like Schiller's "cs- 
^^etic souls," so ideally endowed and environed that they 
^Tc acquired nothing they later need to abandon ; but such 
3 being is as much a psychological impossibility as the ideal 



savage of Rousseau or St. Pierre. Natural selection among 
thought-forms, choosing the best and rejecting the worst, holtl- 
ing at the same time many hctert^eneous and even incon- 
sistent ideas with degrees of conviction diflfcring up and 
down the long and complex scale of certainty, is most natural 
with girls, who rarely ever regret outgrown concepts, but leave 
them to slowly lapse down the scale; while it is chiefly boys 
who feel called to evict all they can not use, and sometimes to 
doubt their own doubts. This is the normal working of the 
mental mill at this age, and the grain will alt be ground and 
bolted in whatever way best meets the needs of the individual 
life, if no admixture of the scrap-metal of dogma impair the 
machinery. Dead knowledge is simply useless and does not 
putrefy, but only desiccates and nee<!s no scavenger, and, as 
long as it is not in the way, does not need ostentatious burial 
or cremation. Teachings that arc likely to remain perma- 
nently alien and heteronomous, resting on externals, need not 
interfere with the development of a sphere of internal author- 
ity, unless the soul is very small. Probably all of us, even the 
dt^^mattst, is at once, despite himself, pagan, pantheist, agnos- 
tic, fetishist, and heretic generally, as well as Christian and 
believer. Like rudimentary organs, these vic\vs, while rep- 
resenting a lower stage, arc the indispensable conditions of the 
unfoldnient of the next higher. At l>est. it is all a question of 
prepotency and a safe working majority in the soul. Thus 
doubt is perhaps never exclusion or extinction of a belief, but 
a phenomenon of changing predominance and teatlership 
among the psychic elements, and that often only for a certain 
function. Some of our many faculties are converted, and some 
:irc unreclaimed. The worst are good, perhaps exquisitely so 
in spots, and the best are unregenerate and depraved in part. 
We Iwlieve. but pray for help for our unbelief. More trouble 
here is due to inadequate ideas of what the soul really is than 
to mcagemess of soul life, and hence is removable by appro- 
printing what psychology now has to teach. 

But not only our ideas of soul but those of Bible need 
vast enlargement and radical reconstruction if we would know 
and serve youth aright. An ethnic and indigenous Bible is a 
product of ihe folk-soul as now studied by the higher an- 
thropology which seeks for primitive notions about funda- 


mental problems. It originates in rules of organization and 
worship, traditions of llie past, genealogies, songs, prophecies, 
and other expressions of what St. John calls the hgos, Plato 
Oie muthos, Grote tlic nomos, and Maurice the etltos of a race. 
When this material shoots together, the psychic basis for a 
period of culture is laid and a spiritual cosmos begins, and of 
tliis same mother-lye theolog)- is a cnide intellectual formula- 
tion, and a truly natural philosophy is only a yet broader and 
more scientific expansion of it. No race ever flourished with- 
oat its classics or Bible as the pabulum for its higher humanis- 
tic life. The people of modern Christendom have received 
their Bible from an alien stock, and are, therefore, peculiarly 
prone to bibliolatry and parasitic literalism, for the conception 
of an entirely alvextra revelation only reflects its exogamous 
derivation. As it did not spring out of their own life and 
grow with their growth, its very grandeur predisposes to a 
superstitious reverence of it. It is a graft, and its intussuscep- 
tion requires a special and transpeciating act of mind and 
heart. Its position is therefore ethnologically unique, and it 
has long been and still is more or less encysted and unappro- 

It is, howe\'er, our great good fortune to live in an age 
*liO)oiir niblc is being slowly re-revcaled as the best utter- 
ana and reflex of the nature and needs of the soul of man. as 
hbgreat text-book in psychology, dealing with him as a whdc, 
(•ody, mind, heart, and will, and all in the largest and deepest 
ffUtion to nature and to his fellow man, which has been so 
wiiunderstood simply because It was so deeply divine. Now 
that its study is not confined to the Sunday-school and pulpit, 
^li archeology, philosophy, comparative religion, criticism, and 
smiimpology have shown it, part by part, myth. Iii.story. 
prophecy, song. and. above all, Cbristology, which is the heart 
"f all, in a new and majestic hgbt, there is a new hope that 
■hen all these studies have done their work and their results 
"c duly certified and organize*:l. we shall at last be able to 
"iinisier to the religious needs of aca<lcmic adolescence in a 
*^y that opens the door to a higher type of education and 
'jf man. 

Our need is practical, jwrfectly plain in its general fea- 
'wcs, and indeed has already its historic prototypes. The 



Veda, e. g., is the Bible of India, and the Vedanta,' or phi- 
losophy of India, means the end o£ the Veda, as metaphysics 
was for Aristotle the end of physics. AH must pass the stage 
of discipleship to the Vedas before the higher Vedanta could 
be entered upon. Those who remained in the lower stage of 
apprenticeship were not scorned, nor were tliose who admired 
and devoted themselves tu deeper study to purify faith from 
superstition and to develop its freest and deepest thoug^ht 
deemed heretics, or obliged to conceal their ideas in esoteric 
or in mystic guise. " It was recognized in India from very 
early times that the religion of a man can not l>e the same as 
that of a child." Yet the Upanishads, in which the Vedanta 
philosophy is embodied, although they do not recognize the 
gods nf the Veda, and ignore and even reject parts of it, 
are regarded " as perfectly orthodox, nay, as the highest con- 
summation of the Erahmanic religion." It is tn these that 
the needs of the well-trained and intellectually ^lUc adolescent 
were provided for in this motherland of speculative philosophy 
thus blossomed and ripene*! naturally into science, and in- 
stead of conflict between them they were only different ex- 
pressions of essentially the same content. " There arc still 
Brahmanic families." says Max Muller, " in which the son, 
Icams by heart the ancient hymns, and the father performs 
day by day his sacre<! duties and sacrifices, while the grand- 
father, even though remaining in the village, looks upon all 
ceremonies and sacrifices as vanity, sees even in the Vedic 
gods nothing but names of what he knows to be beyond all 
names, and seeks rest in the highest knowledge only, which 
has become to him the highest religion, viz., the Vedanta. the 
end and fulfilment of the whole Veda." 

Despite its democratic character, which disfavors esoteric 
views. Christianity abounds in analogous tendencies. The 
very establishment of a ministry and priesthood, the ideals of 
all types and perfectionists and special consecration ists, sug- 
gests progressive stages of adeptness. " The Eternal Ck>spe!." 
which described a third religious state to succeed the gospel 
as the definite law of humanity, which some regard as (he 
most daring attempt at religious creation in the modem age. 

1 The Veduiin Philosophy, by >'■ ^"^ Mail«r. p. tse*J<f. 



and which, though now lost in the original form, was cm- 
bodied, Rcnan tells us, in the spirit of Assisi, whose life was 
i perpetual intoxication of divine love. *' a prodigy of holiness, 
who made it a carnival, and was a genius of devotion," was 
meant for a third dispensation of the spirit and to originate a 
higher religious life of both faith and practise. 

E>e9J3rdins's Cooipanioiis of the New Life represented a move- 
ment amung^ Frciidi students which alsu pointed toward the rcalizs* 
lion oi a kindred idea, and spread to Germany under the lead of Count 
£ngedi. The Church must he convtrtud and hecomc as of old, a nurs- 
ery of love and liberty ; the moral consciousness must become universal ; 
an inner Christianity mtist be worked out with absolutely no dogma, 
^1 least ai first, not even with theories, for then the whole catechism 
■infill creep in. nor yet with Atheism, which is often a faith held with 
passionate unction. About immortality wc may feel as v^'hen " watching 
^ diver— sure ho will come up. but uncertain just when, where, and 
■now." There arc [hinfjs more important than the divinity of Christ, 
or even the personality of God. Men must become true Jews, true Cath- 
^slics, trae Protestants, yes. true Buddhists, Confucians, etc., and 
-^will bring to a deep sympathetic unity which will be the true Church 
«.^niversai. Starting with no creed but with an appeal to the natural du- 
"S-ies of man, which are wcll-niKli forgotten in the declamation conccm- 
m 3ig his natural rights, the true faith must be slowly worked out by 
■^sbedience lo duty, and then religion, which began among savages 
'^Ks a cult quite apart from morals, will assume its rightful place as an 
vsnique form of the mora! life, and not a form of science. Be pure 
S 31 thought and life, be self-sacrificing, helpful to every nascent moral 
impulse around you. and doing good works with ardor, as the voca- 
%Joo of life, will reveal the doctrine- Be positive, not negative; re- 
v^ounce individualism, which is a cul-de-sac, always a means and 
**rvcr an end; he disintcrcsled if not ascetic, in order to better culti- 
"*rate associations and solidarity; if we feel that while duty is noble, 
*lie chance is it is not ilte most valid thing in the world, we 
*^ian. like too many gilded collegiate youth, combine sadness with 
l>adncss, and the gloom will not be the romantic melancholy of Obcr- 
»»tann. born of doubt .-iboul metaphysical reality, but the dim and 
perhaps unconscious sense that, so far as we are concerned, the 
<3erdopment of the human race has ceased. If we are to escape this 
racial arrest and paralysis wc must feel deeply that the future may be 
rrore than the past, but that it is not a "gift but a conquest." While 
I_jilie was quite right that it was a doubtful service to seek to confer 
»»pon God the honor of demonstratinR his existence rather than to 
)«ave him to that deeper region where not only reason but the whole 
*oul clings to him as its supreme postulate, and while wc may. with 
hJlr. Fiske, almost imagine him praying to be saved from his friends, 
still the rational needs of academic youth are not finally met by the 



Nco-Christian movement, which having done a great service is now 
declining and its 6nc ethical spirit is giving way to new and rcfioed 
forms of naturc-worship in Austria, while the need oi academic youth' 
for gnosis as well as pislis is seen in the contemporary zest for re- 
ligious philosophy, and especially for psychology, which is slowly 
t;ikii)g Ihc place once held by theology as the intellectual expression^ 
of the rcligiuus instinct. 

Thus the second religious need of academic adolescence 
could now be met by a concise, inspiring, ami pedagogic use of 
the results of what may perhaps best be tenned tlie historical 
school of Bible study as founiie<l by F. C. Baur. Tliis move- 
itient, anlike English deism, French atheism, and German ra- 
tionalism, was originated by mature professors of theology 
and men of deep personal pivty, Baur's own profoundly re- 
ligious and pastoral cliaractcr making him the idol of his stu- 
dents and his sermons strangely edifying to all. This method' 
simply applies to Scripture the same canons of criticism that 
arc applied to all the otlier writings of antiquity. Arrested 
as the movement was by the death of its founder, discredited 
by the extreme and essentially unscholarly works of Strauss, 
Bruno Bauer, etc., and by tlie orthodox reaction which fol- 
lowed, it has nevertheless, Zeller tells us. convinced every; 
impartial person under forty-five who has thoroughly studied 
it, and still ]>oints out the direction religious studies must take 
if Protestant theology is to hold a respectabEe place among 
other departments in universities. The religious hfe and be-i 
lief of the young men here considered does not in fact, and' 
never can, rest on miracles considered as interference withi 
Nature's laws by a personal al>-extra deity; and the fear tliat 
either Testament would be less edifying if the supernatural 
elements were " allowed to quietly lapse from the Christian 
consciousness," as Schleiermacher suggested, is as groundless 
as that of the Emperor Julian, that classical literature would' 
be discredited if faith in ancient mythology were destroyed. 
Youth, most of all, needs this greatest of human documents, 
and needs to read it with absolute freedom and honesty of 
mind ; and there is no danger but that the new light, already 
shining from it and yet to be revealed by their methods, will 
make the new to the old as astronomy to astrology, and will 
make young men not skeptics but apologists. 


The historic-critical school is now comparative, as almost 
c^'cry scientific tieparlment that deals with life must be 
(anatomy, physiology, psycholog)-, philolt^ry, etc., as well as 
religion in some smse, for to know one is lo know none). 
AH the great religious themes, sin, sacrifice and atonement, 
regeneration, the soul, ideas of a futiire life, of a golden age 
past or future, thcophany and revelation, the God-man. re- 
ligious duties, rites, ceremonies, etc., are found in most 
natural religions and can be traced through various stages of 
ilcvclopment, and when sympathetically presented from a 
copious storehouse of knowledge alt this awakes an interest 
al the proper age, the depth of which nothing can surpass. 
When we see, too, what has been done in France since 1876 
by M. Guiniet with his now generously subsidized museum, 
whh its library, two reviews, extensive collections and corre- 
spondence, and not only French fjiit also indigenous pro- 
fessors expounding and ilKistrating in full regalia all their 
respective ceremonials, and when wc see what a judicious pre- 
scription of the higher criticism in ail Its pleroma of new light 
aad hfe can do and has done in many cases for a certain class 
of college men, every intelligent and sympathetic friend of 
youth will wish it a hearty, ungrudging, ami reiterated God- 
S[wd. Heber Newton thought all the Bible should never 
have been translated, and no doubt many may be injured by 
this critical rei Hum i nation nf it ; hut I can not say too earnestly 
lliathe who doubts its beneficence for those souls in need Ixith 
lacks faith in the Word and has yet to Icam the working of 
the divine pcdagogos. as Clement of Alexandria was wont to 
all the Holy Ghost, that highest of all muses, in one of its 
iQOfit important ministrations. 

Then comes the need of some religious philosophy. We 
"lay agree with Hatch and Arnold that this is an Hellenic 
father than a Semitic element, but we must ask. with Rcnan, if 
**arc not bom lo philosophize, for what are we born? The 
idigious life and growth of thought might be almost said to 
ttmsist in gradually transforming theological into psycho- 
"Ogical ideas, as Creek transcendence is gradually replaced by 
^e original Hebrew immanence. Tliiel well says. *' The sci- 
ence of religion is not a natural but a mental science," and 
11 should be written over the door of every institution for 


higher religious education : " Let no one enter here who 
not know psychology." Instead of the injunction of Ni 
Oiristian ethics, " Judge with all your might," for what ought 
to he is more and higher than what is, we must philosophize 
with all our might. Ever since, in some remote age, psychic 
changes became more important than physical for evolution, 
the life of the soul has been more than that of the body, and 
man has been relatively more and more wretched if he failed 
to gra.sp the higher meaning of life, to give it a psychical 
exegesis, and to rise thereby to a loftier consciousness of the 

No one has tv&r yet realized this so adequately as 
Schleiermacher. the greatest of all modern religious thinkers, 
who urged that religion was the highest expression of man's 
subjective states and the best hall-mark of their legitimacy. 
Even theology to him was not constitutive but r^ulative, and 
dogmas were but ancient shore-lines left by the tides of the 
many sounding seas of human instinct and feelings. Not the 
consciousness of freedom, which Ht^el intellectually made the 
sole criterion by which to measure all human progress, but 
the feeling of absolute dependence upon the power at the heart 
of the universe was for him the psychic principle that strug- 
gles to expression in all myths, ceremonials, and doctrines, 
that made not only natural religion but Christianity natural, 
and was the only possible basis of complete and world- 
wide religious unity. He cared little to prove the facts of I 
religion, but only the legitimacy of the psychic states they rep- I 
resented. Tlicolt^ics are forms of interpreting pious feelings, | 
and religion is not theology nor yet ethics, hut personal and i 
experimental. Its forms are to it as the world to God. In- 
deed, to deny the objective truth of religious doctrine and 
history may bring religious feeling to purer expression. His 
deep Moravian fervor impelled him beyond even Plato to wor- 
ship the fathomless infinite with Spino/a^ and to suspect that 
the entire universe of consciousness might be a mere allegory. 
We must follow only the most universal human interest. Tlie 
different religions are only the one universal religion divested 
of its infinity, and all are one if regarded sub sf>ccie retcr- 
nitatis. Every advance in science is increase of God's glory, 
and all things, when reduced to thdr last ground, end in the 


sense of dependence, and help on man's spirit in its deep 
propulsive struggle toward the tnlinite. In (ine, he says: " If 
man does not become one with the eternal in the immediate 
unity of his intuitive feelings, he remains forever separated 
froni it in the derived unity of consciousness." This is the 
monism that is in philosophy what monotheism was of old, 
which asserts its supremacy above all dualism. 

This movement, too. declined. Even its author reacted, 
IS (lid the Zeitgeist, and neither psycholog}' nor the religious 
consciousness of the age was sufficiently developed for it. 
Part of it went into Feuerbach's shallow reiterations that the- 
ology was only anthropology; part went into the affirmation 
of Theodore Parker, who was withal too predominantly 
negati^•e and deficient in sympathy ; and the rest went to seed 
in sterile and sentimental mysticism, so that Schleiennacher's 
earty work seemc<l doomed to remain an unfinished window 
in Aladdin's tower. Bui with the new birth of psychology 
and sociology and the critical historical movement, many 
more special workers have lately resumed it. The psycho- 
logical basis of faith, of immortality, of sin, of inspiration, of 
projdiecy, of conversion, m^my broader conceptions of the 
iffeclional nature that show not only the baser forms but the 
higher relations of the Platonic eros, with the Pauline charity 
and Jesus's profound postulate of love, and many others, al- 
reaily give promise that in place of the too-Docctically apprc- 
l^ided Christ, we shall before verj' long have a psychology of 
Jesus which will restore his sublime figure from the degrada- 
tion to which patristic metaphysics has so long banished him, 
3ndof religion that will make it again central in the soul.* 

'W«h«w monysopgesnivelKpntiiiigs, eg., in the si&ry or relations beiwccD re- 
'■im Hd abnonnn] suies uf mind, hy MunBier. A. Roemcr, y»niillcf, ManceguM, 
'^ HoU, Hemtnn Cunkd, Heinrich Weincl. and in wi unpuWi»h(M] ircatiGc oa 
'""(ioui p«liol<^, by J Moics ; on ihe psychnlogy of (aitli. by Vorbtodi, Pajrot. 
*dS«tj)Ilas; on mtraclos, by SchJnr: on ^in. by Kicrkcngavd and ScSiini; on 
•^Aip, by llylan : on seen, by Sighele ; on inspiratirtri, by Partridge ; on ptopliccy, 
•flimell; on drat h. byC Scotland Hordcau; on immortality, by Kutiie, Cralncnp, 
*****. McConncll. Roycr, Piskc and many others; on the religious ccenscioumc^s 
^i'anmaDn, Hamack, Baldcnsperf^r, Incc Grinder, Crax«crie, SabaCicr, KiiuLtl, 
^ Koth. FloBTOoy, M. Jastrow, Lcuba. Otto /iem«Ken, and here, i»rhap>, w« 
i^Bild lodtule Gotdwin Smith, Mallock. Ilncckcl, Oi<lwald and Mcichnikoff; on 
"""i lad anthropological religion, by Milter, Boring-Gould, O'AJvIella, Lef^vre^ 


Youth needs a record of thai life, the greatest y 
most truJy and philosophically historic, that will represent it 
as the culmination of the entire scries of organic forms of 
existence, the species in one typical individual, as the revealer 
of a new and higher cosmic consciousness, advancing the hu- 
man ideal and opening the way to the higher destiny of man. 
When this evolution is a little more evolved hy a natural 
growth, the new does not suffer from or discredit the old. hut, 
as in Scripture, is the revelation of what is prophesied but 
concealed in it; anil when the theme of the present chapter ts 
adequately understood. I believe that the Scripture itself will 
be seen to be primarily addressed to youth, whose need far 
exceeds that of all other stages of life. 

In whatever sense Christ is divine, his humanity is pcda- 
gogically first, according to every known principle of educa- 
tion ; and divinity is a surplusngc after his humanity has been 
filled to the utmost and all that is possible made out of and 
ascribed to it, not so much as Aristotle wrote his physics and 
then added a metaphysics as after or supplemental physics, 
but as Jesus himself giew by degrees into full Messianic con- 
sciousness, or as Scripture, as history shows, became the Bible 
by its own intrinsic merit. The truly superhuman factor is, 
in philosophic terms, the objectivization of what subjectivism 
call not yet fully appropriate. Indeed, not only great religious 
movements and awakenings, but psychology itself, consists in 
realizing in the immanent here and now all prophecieSi 
dreams, standpoints, and ideals that have seemed remote, 
supernal, and alien, and in the deei>ening insight that all that 
has ever occurred will surely recur if the conditions can be 
made the same. Thus every higher stage of development in- 
volves not only re- interpretation but re-revelation on a higher 
plane, and religious advancement is the consummation of hn- 

Ton Ciobel, BrinloD, Hatch, Thicle, Gunble, Lippert. Wemie, Drutnmond, ^maa 
wye, Slrvb. Slokcs. Scclcy, Wm. Mackmlosti; on rrfttneration, by Danieli, Lam 
easier, Slorliuck, jatnt*. II6c1er, aiid ihc schiMl uf Ritschi, K. Smith, Mob«rly; ot 
Itihlical psychnlrtgy, by Iletid^cli, Karl Fischer; on the psycliolrtgy of Paul, bf 
Simon, not to mention the philojophiesof religion, since Schlcirrmachcrnnd H«^, 
Md ihe many recent ntlcmplii to inlcrprct the tJoil idea in mere psychnlogicfti tcrmi. 
To thii psychological aspect of religion a ntw journal (already ADnounccd) «Dd ■ 
book in preparation will be devoted. 


man tlevdupment. It is far tuu drastic a lest to be safe for 
niost uf the best of us to ask. if all mctapliysical and transcen- 
dent elements were ebminated from a faith ; if all of tlie so- 
called historic factors and all miracles should fade, what have 
we left? But just this very many young men are doing for 
their ideal and for personal immortality, and the consolation is 
that this " exercise " reveals to them that it is a most precious 
and growing- rcsi<iiuim, that must be no longer ignored. The 
realm of rtaturtf has vastly increased not only in extent, but 
•hat is far more important, in intent, so that most of what 
was called supernatural now lies well within it, but so en- 
riched, substantialized, and dignified that we hardly recognize 
it. Psychic influence in the cause aiul cure of many diseases; 
rapt states of trances, exciting and mental exaltations; the 
deepened knowleilgc of what love is and means, that biology 
has suggested; the laws of heredity; sin as decadence, de- 
feneration, and pessimism: vicariousness as evolved in phi- 
losophy, therapeutics, and esthetics since .Aristotle's doctrine 
of catharsis; the sacrament of communion, with its many 
nxjts deep in the remotest past of human instinct Qiurch 
sen-ice and ritual, directly traceable, in its highest historic 
uitiquity, as Neale tias shown, to some of the best sources; 
Church organization and polity as analogous, feature by feature, 
with Plato's ideal republic; even orthodoxies in their prime as 
perhaps the most economic of all psychic methods of coopera- 
t»n and service, faintly echoing that greatest of all human 
affirmative theories, and even foreshadowing its philosophical 
correlate, a spiritual monism — these and many more are at 
least secure. 

Baron. Hohhcn, and Newion, who inaugurated the "' English way " 
c( iqiarating by water-tight compartments in Illcir own minds their 
wlipous from their scientific life and thought, prepared the way lor 
ih« antagonisms between faith and knowledge so conspicuous in 
Vneer. Tyndall, and Huxley; and favored by the current and pcr- 
Wm diudism of mind as over against matter, and by the influences 
'■ff ihe French Revuhition, this " modern calamity " was not mitigated 
^ 3 national philosophy broad enough to embrace religion and 
tooicc as in Ccrmany. This antagonism is utterly obsolete from 
tbt standpoint of the new psychology, the chief and highest function 
ctf which, I t)clicve, ts to be the elaboration not merely of reconciliation 
Cf conitosus, but of an union and identity so complete that we shall 



no longer suspect God to be a hypocrite who says one thing ir 
Word and docs another in his works, and wc shall realize thai science 
must be taught in our theological schools for logic, for facts, for 
reverence, and for true ihcories; while religion, the oldest and most 
absorbing of human interests, will not only have a place in every col- 
lege and university, but its spirit will pervade the laboratory and 

The care of souls is not yet an art. Pastors and the leaders of 
religious organ iztitions for young men do not yet understand the ueeds 
of this yeasty stage of intt-nsL- emotion and narrow mentality, nor 
how different is the religion of a youth and a mature man. They do 
not realize the viciousncss of a conversion that teaches tJic child to 
assume ihi: airs, prayers, and preuchnienis of adults, when in fact 
he can be only a candidate for full humanity. We still tack real 
duclorfS dubilatttium who can preside wisely over the parturition 
of the higher mental life of religion, holding the needs of youth 
to be the highest of all needs, and the duty to serve it by renouncing 
every obstacle and htrlijing it to an ever higher niaiuriiy, lo be tlie 
chief duly of man. and believing thsit what ought to be is the surest 
of all things to be. I could not lose heart even if I accepted Fair- 
bairn's conclusion that but very few people in the world have yet 
been true Christians, but that the glory of this religion is yet to be 
achieved. 'Ilierefore, in the name of youth, 1 postulate and await 
without a shadow of doubt or fear ( i ) broader conceptions of the 
human soul, which in this field lives far more by feeling and instinct 
than by reason, ihat faith, the greatest of all its faculties, be rescued 
from present neglect and degeneration; (J) loftier ideas of Scripture 
that shall make it not a fetish, but the true and living logos of the 
human heart and will, never finishetl and complete in the past, but a 
never-ending progressive revelation of which the prophets and Jesus 
gave us only ihc beginning; and (3] eternal warfare upon ortho- 
doxies and alt dogmatic finalities, which are only the petrifactions 
of faith, intimately connected in ways psychology is only just be- 
ginning to sec with the devitalization of life and mind caused by 
past or present sinful excesses. If at any time in life, belief in God, 
i tumor talily. and a future slate is grown into without special reve- 
lation, it is now. Miracles seem lo he more a continualion or aug- 
mentation of natural processes when the latter seem themselves most 
impressive, and if there is any lime when he is a poor Christian who 
can not believe in Jesus without their aid or can not be philosophically 
true to himself, if be bases all upon them, it is at this stage of life. 
If rightly conceived and taught, the human soul is so cnnstitulcil that 
it can never for a moment doubt the basal verities of religion, and the 
energies of the cplicbic age will be, as they should by ils very nature, 
more and more athrmalive, and instead of tragic negation we shall 
have only the normal and organic processes of eliminating broken- 
down tissue when it has done its work. 

Intellectual seems far more cradicablc than moral error. H<re 



we must be far less optimistic, for the sting of sin is deeper than 
mind, and the causes of douhl will be removed long before t)iosc of 
wrong conduct. Ethical conversion and mental reconstruction will, 
perhaps, be forever needful in suiiie fornt at this a^e, bul iliey will be 
more nonital, complete, and salutary when no longer infected by 
dogmatic surds. 

IV. The external types, norms, and symbols of conver- 
sion sliow it to be the very core of a true pIiilos{ipliy of human 
history. Many analogies of this change are. and more may be, 
drawn from the metamorphosis of insects, and here biology 
stipph'es the Iwst heuristic. Most non-oceanic gnibs will later 
fly. In the worm stage their sole business is to cat and grow. 
The external skin at length hardens into chitin. whicli pre- 
vents further growth. The larva then chooses some appro- 
priate place and- attachment, where it passes into a ciuicscent 
itate, perhaps remaining long through drought and winter. In 
preparing for this pupa state some insects secrete or spin a 
protection. They now undergo a more or less radical trans- 
ttTBiation and acquire legs and wings. When tiie clianges 
arc complete the old skin cracks, and the insect slowly ex- 
iricates itself part by part, and, leaving tlie cast-off skin or 
ty»\''\x, anerges in adult or imago form, for a life destined 
cHeiiy for reproihiction, and usually very britf in cutnpari- 
s«i with the earlier developmental stages. For those who 
l^ve to grope in obscure regions by the aid of symixjls, pre- 
i-iotescencc is the larva state chiefly for growth. The brain, 
»tiich developed from the ectoderm, and consciousness, bom 
of toach. tend to harden, like the derma, till growth is ar- 
^ed. and the impnp:ition in habit, creed, liecoming overspnn 
*iih aajuired knowledge and convention, progresses New 
"If is growing meanwhile within, and if it has vigor enough 
ind the chitin be not too rigid and impacted, the old conscious- 
f»ss with its customs is sloughed off, and the soul enters, 
"">« or less transformed, its mature imago stage, to live for 
^* nice and not for self. 
Spring, and the resurrection of the world of plant and am- 

tiBl life from the death of winter, and all the innumerable 
^H*. rites, legends, based on this prefigure it. Dawn van- 
iti.'ihing night equips other apperceptive organs for it. All 
■ttnre, life, and letters abound in tropes and metapliors of 



it, tlie collection of which wnulii make an important con- 
tribution to our theme. B.iths. lustrations, and aspersion* 
among savage and civilized races; a banquet for the famish- 
ing; successful operation for cong;enital blindness and deaf- 
ness; discharge of debt; freedom from prison and tyranny; 
ransom, emancipation from slavery; cure of disease by a great 
physician; sudden wealth; the bursting forth of fountains in 
the desert; the substitution of love for fear and hate; the 
quickcrling of seed and growth out of the dark earth ; efflores- 
cence, fruitage, harvest; marriage to a celestial bridegroom; 
impregnation by the spermatic logos; emergence from the 
womb, and the new mode of larger and more independent life; 
rescue from shipwreck; finding a haven in storm; protection 
in danger; transition from the life of the body to that of the 
soul; change of allegiance from a bad to a good prince — all 
these, every one and countless more, are only efforts which 
abound in the hymns, theologies, and ceremonies of all faiths 
to describe some aspect of the law that necessitates this change 
of dynasty and of constitution in the city of " Man-soul." 

llie best myth is a dee[)er and broader expression of hu- 
man nature and needs than reason or history has yet at- 
tained, and is thus the shape revelation might be expected to 
take. Where it is an individual expression of universal 
instincts, it is the highest use of the imagination. Plato's 
myth of the den {Rep. vii, i), which descriljes men sitting 
in a cave, cliained. with their backs to the light, studying 
and measuring shadows of outer things and events cast on 
the wall before them, and then freed and turned about, or 
converted, and led out to see real objects, and at last, as iheir 
eyes grew stronger and their minds less bewiklered, shown 
the sun itself, had much to do in giving both the term and 
concept to the early Christian idea of conversion. Some 
think the myth of the reversal of all cosmic process, the old 
growing young and the dead rising at the end of the cosmic 
cycle (Politicns. 268), also contributed. 

One of the dominant motives in this coming reorganiza- 
tion of philosophy and history is the cixirdination of the 
biologic changes of adolescence in the microcosmic individ- 
ual and its macrocosmic analogue in the forces which center 
in the era of dawning Oiristianity, when both national and 




personal selfishness merged into a higher human consciousness 
of universal brotherliood founded tlie new kingdom of man. 
Adam in Eden perhaps thus represented prepubertal inno- 
cence, ideally environed and sheltered, forbidden the prema- 
ture exercise of genetic function or knowle<lge of it, and his 
probation stands for that which is always essential for the 
attainment of full maturity. Eve is the romantic first dream 
of an ideal mate horn from the development of part of his own 
body, as woman can not fully exist for man before. His 
temptation is the constant danger, and his fall the eternal 
tragedy, of prematurity and the penalty it entailed on all man- 
kind; while the whole is the symbol of the arrested develop- 
ment of our race due to violation of the biologic law of youth- 
ful probationary restraint, from which heavenly love incarnate 
later saves us. 

Again, the Bible story as a whole, whatever else it is, is 

also conversion "writ larg^e." Abraham was a desert sheik. 

Domad, and breeder of lierds and men. The promise that if 

be kept Jehovah's commands his seed shmdd be as the stars 

oi heaven; the So<Jomite episode: the rivalries, jealousies, 

migration; the later apprenticeship in Egj'pt; the nomad life 

in the desert; the revelation of the law; the work of Moses, 

Ihe great organizer of external righteousness; the evokilion 

of (he theocracy and a tenipnra! king; the growing impurity 

of life and worship, are the prelude. With the prophets comes 

ll» awakened conscience, intensified by its captivity (for cx- 

lonal calamity always favors a sense of guilt), a deepening 

Onviction of sin, uncleanness, and miscr>-, portending doom 

aod deepening toward despair. Then dawns the hope, light, 

■and joy of Bethlehem, which slowly spreads over the world. 

-AH these are typical of nothing so much as the moral vicissi- 

*ii!es of the adolescent period, of which Adam marks the 

^im. and the mature Qirisl the somewhat belated, but all 

*« more complete, culmination which liad to end in supreme 

^f-sacrifice that the pilgrimage from selfliood to Altruria be 

^tirdy accomplished. 

The story of Jesus's life, psychologically treated, whatever 
*!« it may be, is also another abridged and variant edition 
^ '^l the same import. There is the glimpse of an early life 
H of natural growth in favor of God and man. At the age of 



early Oriental puberty he is already characteristically ponder- 
ing the highest themes with deepening sense of wrong and 
human need, a glimmering, conscious, higher mission strug- 
gling with temporal ambition, a long conflict of the noblest 
adolescent idealism that ever was with the hard, inveterate 
conservatism of a decadent age and senescent man, wi& 
bigotry, hypocrisy, and shame, ending in defeat, the self- 
effacement of a shameful death, then the inevitable resurgcan 
motive, at first incredulous and apparitional, with ascension 
or sublimation as the climax, but which later became the very 
substance of the Christian faith and the comer-stone of belief 
in both Jesus's deity and our regeneration. As he conquered 
death, so we may rise to the higher life of the race if the self 
or flesh perishes. Indeed, the story of the Cross, psycho- 
logically considered, is both provocative and regulative of the 
soul's widest and most comprehensive oscillation from pain 
to joy, these two sovereign masters of life. The soul once 
well cadenced to this rhythm can never fall a victim to pes- 
simism. In this masterpiece of pathos we find hunger, thirst, 
homelessness, garments parted, betrayal, desertion by dis- 
ciples, the solitary struggle in Gethsemane, all the incidents 
of passion week and of the " stations " on the way to Cal- 
vary, all cumulative and more effective than in any of the 
great dramatic unities. Every item is a pathogenic pity- 
fetish. Many young converts in our returns are chiefly 
affected, e. g., by the nails, some almost to the point of stig- 
matization. Some press nails against their hands to deepen 
their sympathy, and one describes how a painful wound in 
the center of the palm " brought me to Jesus." * The spear 
is less prominent, but every item and detail of its thrust is 
sometimes exquisitely if not neurotically felt. With some the 
thorns are the apex of the pathos, with others the scourging, 
the prayer, " If it be possible," or, again, the innocence and 
purity of the victim. 

This conquest of the world by pain and grief is still seen 
in many a revival, where all this holy drama has been set in 
scene and been made to live again for the imagination by 
word-painting so vivid that men have not only groaned and 

' See my article on Pity. Am. Jonr. of Ps;^., Joly, 1900, toL », p. 534 et tef. 


kfooned, but Iiad visions thai inatic the wiiolc seem transport- 
singly realistic. The spotlessness of tlie sufferer, who, while 
deserving supreme good, is called to endure supreme evil, 
makes pathos far greater than where the innocent suffer for 
the sins of their ancestors, a theme which has played its great 
role of havoc in the world of tragic sin, guilt, and atonement. 

What was the mental state of Jesus's followers when he 
died and while he yet lay in the tomb? The world-order 
which the Jews thought rewarded virtue and punished vice 
in this world was upset. The truth they relied on was branded 
as folly and crime. Their hero was forsaken by Jehovah, 
despite his agonizing prayer. The world must have seemed 
the sport of malign chance or of a personal power of evil, and 
death tlic end of all. It is doubtful wliether, like the disciples 
01 Socrates, they could have organized victory out of such a 
defeat. Dispersion, denial, miserablism. and absolute despair 
must have followed, and the teaciiings of Jesus might have 
been forgotten. 

The resurrection reversed all this, and created perhaps the 
greatest of alt revolutions in history. While psychology has 
nothing to do with its objective validity save so far as this 
bears upon the intensity of belief in it, the latter is the car- 
dinal psychic fact of early Christendom. Conviction may be 
of every degree, from tlie faintest suggestion up to cataleptic 
certainty. In the Homeric world mortality was feebly held 
to, but it was better to lead a life of a mean man on earth 
than to be ruler in the realm of the dead. However it came 
about, faith in the resurrection Ijecamc absolute, and every- 
thing was vain without this, its chief affirmation. The great- 
est of all the fears that prey upon the soul of man is that ol 
the king of terrors, just as the chief struggle of all creatures 
is to survive. Perhaps no possible testimony could now vali- 
date such an event in court, but the vital fact was the utter 
belief in it, and this was the burden of the glad tidings pro- 
mulgated by the first preaching.* The very suggestion of it 
would have been a welcome relief to the tension of despair, 
but the conviction that death and its cause, sin, had been van- 
quished, and Satan even overcome in his stronghold, was an 
evangel of unspeakable rapture. Bringing immortality to 
light was the discover)* of a vaster and far more glorious con- 



tiiient. The road to wliich was open to all. Heaven was now 
first definitely cstablislicd, and made real and organized. The 
scope of justice, before limited lo this world, was thus extended 
to a superior realm, which must be irickided henceforth in all 
moral judgment. Thus the key to the apostolic and early 
patristic period is the conception of Jesus as the death-killer 
and "the first fruits of them that slept." He had raised 
others, and made the tomb a portal. In the presence of tlie 
transcendent world this one shriveled. Hence the exhilara- 
tion and ex'en inebriation caused by the sudden removal of de- 
pression wliich set bondmen free. Pentecost look off old fet- 
ters, and as the mind was turned loose in new paradisal 
pastures it gamboled in many forms, that seemed to the staid 
religionist as pathological. It was an age of expansion for 
eacli sense and faculty ; there were ecstasies, trancoidal states. 
visions, and prophecies; ebxdlitions that expressed themselves 
in meaningless jargon and unknown tongues. As Wcinel 
and Gunkcl have shown, there was folly and madness after 
the outptjuring of the Holy Ghost which soon came to have 
its bacchantes if not its sibyls raving with froth and foam. 
There were exuberant vaticinations, gifts, licenses, till it be- 
came necessary to forbid gazing up into heaven expecting 
Jesus's second coming, and lo carefully test and 
between spirits good and bad, true and false, and especially 
to show forth frm'ts of the spirit and proclaim the glad tidings. 
Thus the story of the descent of the Holy Gho-st represents 
the normalization of these effervescences. 

So in order was " other-worldncss *' that heaven was longed 
for and many would gladly have left all and migrated thither. 
The present life was neglected, despised, demeaned. Reason 
was as filthy rags compared to vision. Martyrdom — which 
TertuUian said all Christians should strive to attain at last, 
which Cyprian almost fulsomely eulogized, and which 
crowned many otherwise unknown lives — was longwl and 
prayed for, courted and pni\*oked. Many agonized whether 
they could be counted worthy of it. It was a prize, a supreme 
honor, a diploma " summa cum laude." This contemplation 
of death was no speculative thanalopsis. nor was it desired 
as a mere euthanasia, but even its accompanimeiiits, the charnel- 
house worms, skulls, skeletons, and all its most terrible forms 


weregloatwl over. When in sight it was nished toward with 
a dieer. This reversal of vahie scales involved a hitherto 
unknown separation of tlic soul from the mortal part, and 
a fuller, clearer conception of it as a spiritual body with 
heaven as a soul-home. Soul was no longer a mere harmony 
or 50 tenuous as to be liable, in Platonic phrase, to he blown 
an-ay if men died on a iJfusty day. This gave individuality a 
tranwendental vaUie that it had never had before, and retrans- 
lated morality as other-world conduct. Love idealizes, and 
astlic heart bums in memory of the dear dead they are trans- 
6gurcd. and it was inevitable that the man Jesus should be- 
cotne to Uie soul the heavenly Christ. Finally, when the age 
of the apocalypse was well passed, it was this thanatic idea 
which inspired the oi^anization of the visible Church as an 
ortlily replica of the invisible New Jerusalem, where were 
stored up the treasures of the heart. What was at first a. 
dream, a suggestion, perhaps a pious wish, became more real 
than anything else, and it is significant that just at the time 
Vfhen Alaric conquered Rome, the last hope of the world, 
Augustine wrote his City of God. 

Thus the story of the Cross, which is the chief symbol of 
Cliristianity known by nndtitudes who know nothing else of 
J«us, when relived and vitally participated in is the best 
*f all the initiatives to maturity. The older, lower selfish 
sdfis moiled and a new and higher life of love and service 
flnerges. The pain is a birth-pang and the joy is that a new 
long is bom. The Gospel storj- is the most ade<|uatc and 
dasstc, dramatic representation of the tniest formula; of the 
ntoa critical revolution of life, to successfully accomplish 
'Wch is to make catharscs of our lower nature and to attain 
lull ethical maturity without arrest or perversion; this is 
lliCYcry meaning of adolescence. As Jesus, the totcmic eni- 
^iment of the race, gathered, unified, and epitomized in his 
wn life the many elements of the autosoteric motive that 
*ere before scattered and relatively ineffective and made 
llieftby a new focus of history to which so many lines before 
ftsiverged, from which they have since diverged, so each 
yowli can now. thanks to him, condense in his own life the 
osaitial experience of the race by sympathetic participation 
in this great psychopheme. His catabasis under die burden 



of sin explored and i<lealized every stage of the thanatic 
patluv(iy wc imist ;i!I p;iss. and his anabasis ol resurrection 
Crum the dq>tlis of luiniiliatiuii, renunciation, and self- immola- 
tion to Deity itself is the Eternal Ciospel, for it shows that 
luiman nature, in what Keischle calls its thymetic core, is 
sound, resilient, positive, and can not be overwhelmed. Now, 
having attained a sense of fundamental impulsion as by a 
higher power (which Jesus construed as sonship). feeling a 
mission, an inner call (such as he found in realizinjf the Mes- 
sianic ideals of his day), and seeking a sphere of influence 
as he would found a new heavenly kingdom, youth is truly 
adult and reariy to enter upon his career. 

Men will always differ concerning tlie proportion played 
by objective and subjective factor? in the deification of Jesus, 
as to how much was given as historic data, and how much 
is due to human reaction upon them. The latter element, 
however, whether it be great or small, has an ineluctable basis 
which no higher or lower criticism can ever impair, and even 
if all the historic factors were to prove fallacious and be 
abandoned there remains a Christ born within. To cling to 
this is the new psychological orthodoxy. For weaker faith 
historicity is indispensable. But there are already strong soids 
for wliotn the very sibilancc of the word suggests a lower and 
almost ophitic stratum of the religious consciousness. But if 
the latter pales there is now this consolation, that the smaller 
the nucleus of fact the greater, and. we may even say, the 
more divinely creative the soul of man, so far as it evolved 
from its conscious — rcenforccd by its larger unconscious^ 
depths this supreme solution of its own greatest need. Just 
as the power of appreciation is only a less degree of the same 
qualities that create masterpieces or heroic deeds, so, whatever 
history loses, we must ascribe to the productive genius of the 
soul and substitute universal truth for particular facts. Thus 
the sou! seasons itself by exploring both extremes of suffering 
and glor>', reacts from depression to exaltation, from the cross 
to the crown, expands temporal to eternal dimensions. 
Thus the instinct of justice complements the agony of inno- 
cence by transcendent joy, and when it is lost in iniquity 
works out a program of salvation. 

Again, lilcralurc, philosophy, and history abound in variant 


editions of the Siimc theme, which, although relative and 
partial compared with that of Christianity, illustrate certain 
features of the ephebic metamorphoses more fully and might 
be mosaicked into a new higher unity about this theme. Faust, 
e. g; passed through a very different curricuhim of lust of 
knowledge, and of sense, sold his soul to sin, expcricnccil the 
moral chaos of Walpurgis night, and at last, having learned 
the vanity of wealth and ambition and every egoistic impulse, 
found atonement and joy in humble service, Parsifal, roused 
from innocence by the suggestion of sinful love, developed a 
higher life and became, as some "young Germans" think, a 
"German Christ," representing a principle of Teutonic atone- 
ment that, as presented by Wagner, they conceive destined not 
only to supersede but even to save Oiristianity itself. 

Dante, " the voice of ten silent centuries," whose work 
" best expresses the heart of medieval Catholicism," is read 
in a new light and invested with a new and higher charm, 
as an aIlegor>- of adolescence, more ethical, richer, and more 
concrete than Hegel's phenomenology, and with all its differ- 
ences, still best studied as a Pilgrim's Progress for the cul- 
tured. The many professorships established to teach Dante car 
do best service by studying what the ephebic revolution, of 
Which it is on the whole the fullest consummate literary char- 
acterization, rcidly is, and me:ins, and the needs of the sub- 
jective processes of whatever else this " divine," and of all 
Secular Inioks most fre<]uently edited, masterpiece may be. 
l^ich, learned, titled, the author was overwhelmed by mis- 
fortune and transformed by love. He " held heart-break at 
hay for twenty years " to write a spiritual biography in the 
true language of the soul, and uttered himself as few have 
ever done. His soul, tempered by an amazing range and in- 
tensity of typical human experience, slowly, and exhausting 
nearly all the many stages of the process, passes through the 
bell of torture, grief, and fear, sees the true and hideous 
nature of every sin revealed in its fit retributive penalty 
through all the long descending way of blood and tears, 
learns the dialect of anger and blasphemy, till at the center 
of tlic eartli's gravity he clambers down Satan's shaggy sides, 
inverts himself, and is suddenly transported four thousand 
miles to the other side of the eartli on tlie Easter mom. 



under the southern cross, while the love planets incite to glad- 
ness, and his blackened face is waslied by the tears of grati- 
tude and a deep new joy. The mountains of purgatory, the 
highest in the world, and the only land in the new hemisphere, 
with all its rich and varied landscape, are Ijefore htm. but steep 
and uncertain as the Hill Difficulty. Each terrace, with new 
penitential expiation and comfurtirig promises, marks pro- 
gressive growth in grace and clearer vision, till at Lethe the 
guilt of remembered sin and pain is waslicd away, and on the 
summit the siiadowy " sweet pedagogue," who had hitherto 
guided him, commits him to tiie care of his old love, purified 
and iransfigured, with whom, now fully regenerate, he com- 
mences the ascent through the nine heavens of Para<lise to 
the ineffable rose of tlawn, and of the blessed at the apex of 
the empyrean, lifted through every cr>'stalline sphere by gazing 
fixedly into the eyes of his celestial love, while his mind, dull 
with false human doctrine, is opened to the awful mysteries 
of divine science. 

Wc have no space to charactcriz-c but only to name the legends 
of the Holy Grail, King Arthur and the Knights of die Round Table, 
the Nibclurig Hoard or Rheingold. ihe Golden Fleece. Prometheus, 
Hercules, ThcHcu.s, Ulysses, CEdipus, Oresu-s, Iphigcnia, Samson, 
Beowulf, Hamlet and other Shakespeare story roots, and scores of 
ethnological rarliclcs from t1ii! Indie wars with King Balin, the 
Sakuntala, and the legends of the descent of fire, to the Kalevala and 
Hiawatha, and many more, They are in differing degree, either warp 
or woof, nothing hut allegories of the birth of sex and its higher 
meaning, or are at least replete with allusions to which only the 
psychology of adolescence can furnish the true key. They are quite 
a.s adctjuale ethnic cxjircssions of conversion as are many of the in- 
dividual experiences of it in Stnrbuck, Lcuba, Coe, and James. The 
history of ancient philosophy is a very different rendering of a part 
of the same theme, and shows the same sequence as its only unity. 
First came the early Greek oneness with nature, represented in the 
Homeric world, which h;ul no stale, church, school, Bible, literature, 
Bcicncc. inventions, hut where all was solvent in personalities and 
in the natural relation between men, with the rich nursery mythology 
of Hesiod, lAhicb was not broken by the Ionic, nor hardly by all the 
early schcwis. This harmony was ruptured by Socrates, Plato, and 
Arisiode. But their solution of ilie tension was partial, and after the 
decay of the Greek state, and the bankruptcy of the ancient culture, s 
sense of incubation gave place to the Alexandrian parosiamania as the 
transcendental world grew paramount, and thus paved the way to the 


contempt of reason, Ihc pnssionate cultivation of ignorance, and the 
rcpaipnation and rcpcasantJzation of Europe by mona&tici&ui Jn the 
nascent period of the new consciousness brouglu by Cliristendoin as 
it slowly came to wield the accumulated resources of the Western 

Savage initiation ceremonies — creeping through the effigy of a 
lacred cow in token of a new birlli; lurtiiri:, nuililatiyn. and ascetic 
mortification of the flesh in the interest of a larger tribal or yci higher 
spiritual consciousness; inductions to civic and natural as suix'rposcd 
on private and family membcrihip ami duties; burial and resurgence 
from baptismal wnters; renunciation of the old Adam and the putting 
OD of the new Christ, and all the vast repertory of solemn, artistic, 
symbolic, allegorical, and mclapliysical rites, descripliDns. similitudes, 
pilgrimages of man's soul — all witness by their very abundance to the 
manifold significance of this change in human life, aldiough each is 
inadequate, often palhelicallv so, an*] oflcn even repiiUivcly gross 
from the standpoint of the higher psychology which seeks to grasp 
its vast range and scope for all the past, present, and future of man's 
body and soul. 

Here, perhaps more than anywhere else, consciousness is 
a very poor witness to what takes place in the ahysses of 
soul-life. It struggles to reflect, describe, realize what is going 
on below its threshold and beyond its ken. It strives for 
clarification, self-expression, and feels that otherwise its in- 
t^ty is threatened with dissolution. It has many an inkling, 
perhaps even in the form of dreams, automatisms, psychic 
tensions, and variotis invasions from subjacent meristic strata 
that witness to the fact of a ferment, thai it is powerless 
to explain, although the curtain sometimes seems to rift or 
lift a little. This is one reason why the remembered religious 
Bcpcriences of individuals are so pitifully fragmentary and 
IHierile, and often so absurdly mistaken as to cause^ process, 
issue, and object. To the individual it means so much, and 
to all others so little. This is why there often seem breaks 
in character and reversals of motive that appear so abrupt; 
*Iiy trivial incidents loom up so large in the mist; why they 
Fern* so in the telling as the years go by, as If they really 
titpressed the experiences that once found in tliem some 
inoinentary and accidental vent; hence. t€x>, their intensity 
"Oder the great subliminal stress. The value of collections 
of individual narrations is that, by tabulation, comparison, etc., 
i't fragments may be so ordered and systematized by indue- 



tion as together to furnish a basis of illation to the larger 
unconscious hfe, on which consciousness floats, to sound and 
dredge it, explain the tides and currents, map its depths and 
shallows, study the known and unknown primal forms of life 
that inhabit it, and better learn to navigate it. Consciousness 
is of the individual ; t!ie substratum on which it is developed 
is of the race. Subconscious procesjies arc better compacted, 
older, more inerrant. By their brooding and incubation the 
conscious person communes with the species, and perhaps even 
the genus to which he belongs; receives messages from and 
perchance occasionally gives them to it; appeals to mighty 
soul powers not his own, but which are so wise, benignant, 
and energetic that he is perhaps prone to Uie pathetic fallacy 
of interpreting the subhuman as superhuman, if. like the 
Etiglish Psychic Researchers, he hns no intimation of the 
wisdom, depth below depth, that has been organized into our 
bodies, brains, automatisms, and instincts, which is vastly and 
incomparably greater tli^n all that is in the consciousness of 
all men now living combined, and if he deems the surface plie- 
nomena in his own sapient soul to be its essential experience. 
This is the larger self, if such an anthropomorphizing, self- 
idolatrous term may be used, with which we are continuous. 
It is beneath, and not above us. immanent and not transcen- 
dent, and if only rightly interpreted it is veridical in a sense 
and degree our voluble ratiocination knows not of. Its best 
evolution is by the methods of lysis and not those of crisis. 
It answers prayers because it made them. What successfully 
appeals to it and receives its sanction, we call sacred, divine, 
biblical, and its messages arc revelations. It is cosmocatop- 
tric, and the most central of all biologic changes whicli we 
are now considering, and the motifs of the choicest human 
documents are due to its initiative and control. 

V. But if there are now happily many appro.Kimations to 
larger interpretations of conversion, there are still many 
reductive tendencies. In fact and nature, all rfie adolescent 
decade is none too long for its full development, even in 
favored cases, (i) Tliere are still theologians who deem it 
instantaneous, as if the soul were shocked into righteousness 
by a fulminating, convulsive charge like the perhaps epileptic 
Paul. An aura more or less describable, a spasm, and presto, 


all is changed, as if tlie old soul were torn out and another 
inserted in its place. It is all the work of the Holy Spirit, 
whidi, we have been told, docs not necessarily work in time. 
According to this paroxysmal view, the process is miraculous, 
but, in fact, it seems so only because its continuity is so 
shattered in consciousness. Even where the change seems 
gradual, there must be a moment, we are told, when the 
powers of good become stronger than those of evil, and then 
the lever tips, and though it does so ever so slowly there is 
a mathematical and epochful moment, especially in saltatory 
temperaments, full of latent reilexibility, when it crosses 
the absolute horizontal and dips the otlier way. In practise, 
however, most would concede hours, perhaps days, weeks, and 
t\tn months, to the processes. But the intemperate haste for 
speedy results is strong. The danger of delay, the sympathy 
tbat would shorten the period of pain and struggle, the haste 
lo get it well over and to pass on to the cultivation of the fruits 
ol the Spirit and the Giristian graces as a post-graduate 
course, all act as accelerants. No informed mind can for 
a moment doubt the vast good that sudden conversions have 
•Tot^ht, or that this method has reclaimed many otherwise 
unreached. There are innumerable ways, all perhaps good, 
andei'cry new form means more feet led in the way of salva- 
tion. But for most, and those probably on the whole the best, 
the religious change is a growth rather than a conquest. 

{2) Again, there is a tendency to intensify the symptoms 
of ihis change to acute form, to represent depravity as total, 
i1k danger great, the conflict with sin bitter, to appeal to fear. 
(0 represent God as angry and hardly restraining himself from 
infliaiiig condign puiiishnient, to encourage violence in 
Monning the heavenly kingdom, to agonize in prayer, and to 
njsximizc the joy and rapture of deliverance, etc. Many nar- 
fatives of conversion told by exhorters and by converts about 
thfrasclves are not only sensational and yellow but twice 
oaggerated. first from temperamental and environmental 
noses, and still more iumi telling and retelling them. Here 
Reconvert meets at the outset of the new life a very strong 
toBptation to make himself interesting. How subtly, yet un- 
ccnscknisly. he feels his way along lines of most approval in the 
rallott stage of the first prayer-meetings, while trying to 



formulate some account of the tumult he has passed throuj 
that shall establish its legitimacy and impress and help others. 
He would be taithnil, but who can describe feelings, especially 
of an utterly new kind and degree? Perhaps he would prefer 
silence and retirement awhile for orientation, it is all so 
thymetic and pectoral, and to grow calm from the mxnadic 
muse that seized and transported him into another world. 
But the new form of his ditnorphic personality can not be 
deemed securely established till he has " borne witness," so 
he develops the legend or idyl of his allotropism, and into it 
weaves ihc hfe story of his romance first with Apollyon and 
then with the Huly Ghost. At such an hour and place, and 
in such a setting of circumstances, his soul took its one flight 
from death to life. The grand event of his entire e>d5tence is 
in ilie past, and so hot was the battle that the great fatigue of 
early senescence begins prematurely to settle. 

(3) Very strong in the past have been the tendencies to 
normalize the processes, to order the stages, to convention- 
alize it all. to set up one or more orthodox and theological 
types that should be accepted as current coin, and so to pre- 
scribe its onset, progress, and outcome. Where this has been 
done, attempts to erect new standards have caused the greatest 
disturbance, like tlireatening the validity of titles, or disturb- 
ing social rank and classes. Candidates are cross-examined 
on the precise nature of their subjective evidences of personal 
piety. This tends to throw the stress of the test upon belief 
even more than feeling, because it is more examinable and 
inclines to the undue emphasis of doctrinal soimdncss. But 
recent studies abundantly show that profoundly religious and 
even exceptionally Christian lives are led by those who have 
almost any or almost no belief. Lives have been described, 
which few could for a moment doubt were such, in which no 
real belief in any article of the creed, even God or another 
life, as Leuba shows, could be found. Many pious souls, 
whom the Church could ill afford to lose, are utterly incapable 
of assimilating dogma of any kind. They have a more vital 
charge to keep. Service in the present life absorbs all their 
energies, and they have no time to care for another. "One 
life at a time" is their unspoken motto. They are sure of 
anoUier life if there is one and if that is best, and if not, why. 


(hey mean to so wear themselves out iti Christian work that 
eternal sleep will be no whit less welcome. As to God, it is 
a far cry. How can we know? The world is lawful, beau- 
tiful, full of things to do and undo. I^ theologians busy 
themselves about such great, curious, and tecl^nical questions, 
and the workers will wish and hope lliey are right. If 
he exists, he will neither feci toward nor treat us differently 
whether we know much or nothing of him. If his nature 
accords with the clwractcr men give him. he wants us to do 
good to our fellow beings, and this such Christians chiefly 
love to do whether he is or no. for they have experienced the 
great conversion from love of self to love of others, although 
how, or by what agency, they neither know nor care. 

E, M. Robinson well portrays the diflfereiit and characteristic ways 
in which youth enter the religious life. Some plunge in with definite 
decision, scllling once for all the problem of their relations to God 
ukI of right and wrong; some wade in dcHhcratcly and cautiously, 
swp by step; some run in a little way and then come out again, till 
aiait ihcy swim off; some arc forced in, and being in. may stay or 
feintically struggle to get out; while some simply sit on the beach 
and let liie tide rise about them and float them off. It would also 
»«ni from Coc's seventy- seven ca,ses that the sanguine or prompt 
Uii weak temperament is most fa%'orablc, the melancholic or slow 
aiwl intense next, and the choleric and phlegmatic least predisposed 
to conversion ; that expectation plays ati important role and that each 
Ijpe has its own way. [f something is expected which the tempera- 
ment makes impossible, there i&, of course, disappointment. For some 
it may be guided by external ritual, and for others be purely spontanc- 
•u It may be almost solely ethical in the sphere of will and conduct, 
ttremniional and witlt the motivation of natural affection. Its stages 
nay slowly devolve through a [ifclime or l>c almost momentary. The 
dttnge it works may be superficial or profound, complete or partial ; 
Uttnded by innumerable symptoms or none; transient or permanent; 
strutcd at any stage for a time or for good : or may be so unconscious 
>nd gradual as to be unsuspected. It may be genuine, without any rag 
ol creed, in those who never heard of the Christian name or knew that 
•It necessity was even urged upon men. 

(4) It may suffer displacement up and down the age 
stale Its tnic place is in adolescent years. Rightly under- 
stood, it gives fulness and completeness to the moral changes 
of these years as nothing else can do. At this time, as we saw, 
*re the great temptations, most incipient criminality and vice, 


f hm UBRARY. SThlJTO^\i '\il 



and all races, even tlic lowest, focus all their educational 
efforts here, It is especially the religious teacher's great op- 
portunity. This is its nascent period. TTius both pre- and post- 
maturity involve waste. If loo early, it is sure to be super- 
ficial and incomplete, and dwarfed afterward by childish asso- 
ciations. To repeat Jolin Stuart Mill's well-worn simile, such 
children are like too early risers, conceited all tlie forenoon 
of hfe and stupid and uninteresting all its afternoon and even- 
ing. Precocious revivahsm is a little like teaching scliool 
children the (hities and responsibilities of married life. At 
their very best, falsetto notes like the piping of treble are 
always found in the later utterances, if not in the lives of those 
prematurely regenerated. When infant voices that have 
shown no sign of mutation are encouraged to confess or pray 
in the terms prescril)ed for the very young by a child revival- 
ist, " I am covered with sin," "the leprosy of sin is in my 
soul," " I come to Thee a poor lost sinner," " although I am 
but a child I am very wicked," something is very wrong with 
the child, its teacher, or both. It is usually the latter that 
most needs our prayers. Indeed, to teach such a litany of de- 
pravity before its day seems actually immodest and sugges- 
tive. Conversion at too tender an age, at best, is like vaccina- 
tion with the mild form of smallpox, in that it gives immunity 
against graver forms of religious infection later when passion 
wakes and needs its full and ondcflowercd force. Perhaps 
this is the grossest case of the vast educational waste of trying 
to pick open buds before they are ready to unfold, or teacliing 
with effort and labored supervision what will almost or quite 
come of itseif later when and need arise, like the 
propitious moment when the Holy Spirit knocks at the door 
of the heart. This is one of the causes of the traces of religious 
infantilism so often found in the lives of otherwise mature 

On the other hand, as is far better understood, the change 
may come too late. Happily, it rarely harms, however post- 
mature its subjects, and may transform those grown old in 
sin whom nothing else can help, but its initiation is harder, 
its completeness rarer, and the obstacles to its evcr>- stage 
greater. It may have to rectify vocation, perhaps with suffer- 
ing to the family, break habits and associations grown iii- 


veteratc, and involves going back to the branching of the 
ways before which youth normally lingers and pon^lers. 
]ience, the physical aiid mental strain is greater, and the mor- 
bidities are increased. The devil in each of us has had time 
to make his in trench men ts within stronger, and has grown 
worldly wise and casuistical. 

These tendencies to narrow the sweep of this great biotic 
law. to make it a psychic fetish, a neurosis, a ritual of initia- 
tion instead uf a norm uf hfc, till nothing more needs regeu- 
eratiun than hotli the theory and administration of regenera- 
tion itself, have had many sad results. They often tend to 
cultivate a g^ishy, religious sentimentalisin of a unitjue type 
that evirates character, favor flightiness, unctuousness, mobile 
and superficial sentiments, incline to uUra-fcmininity and pa- 
Iheticism, and to love of climaxes that react to apathy. The 
cereliro-spinal and vaso-motor system is ensanguined in those 
of erethic diathesis by temperamental eloquence, and tempo- 
rary excitement takes precedence over impulsion to the nearest 
duties. Such incitements to virtue are like a cloudburst that 
only slightly irrigates faith or works which need its rcfre-sh- 
mcnt, but makes the soul resemble landscapes where droughts 
and washouts alternate and there is no storage system. 

Feeling is basal and central in the new psychology of the soul, but 
l)ii» is not feeling in this sense, but only its froth and sillibub. Or, 
agsia. the healthful sense of imperfection, incompletctiess, or in- 
iilcquacy predisposes to focus upon some specific act or trait, for the 
JWlhful intellect is very concrete. Sinijlc and often petty faults are 
"(ttiilicd " till they seem heinous. Youth feel baffled or dejected, and 
Ais suggests demerit or even penalty and fear, that may Iw acu- 
oinaicd Lack of robustness of health, or even falipie, are almost 
Jlways factors and often dominant. Anxiety, especially about their 
lilt work or ilie future generally, easily becomes morbid. Perhaps 
ttey take the reconstruction of their entire moral regimen into their 
fandj and would be literally and absolutely perfect. This stage of 
'lllinn often appears in our data. They would do their full and 
^wiipleie duty. But there arc many duties which conflict, and some 
"Ml give way. Hence casuistry arises, and in their mental awkward- 
"fis they arc driven almost to desperation by problems with which 
*«ir (eeble powers can not cope, for a complete system of duties is 
I^WJaied. Again, conscience is hypersensttized and every hitle act is 
R*d or bad, while there is no broad domain of cthiciUy neutral acts 
*eh as the Stoics strove so painfully to elaborate. Eilhcr or, sic aut 
"<'", is Ibe dilemma that suffices for all decisions. They become fin- 



icky, ovcrnicc, are paralyzed and can not decide at trivial cmeP- 
gcncics. Rigid standards are set ap for puerile details. This Coe 
well illustrates 1))-, c. g.. a girl who would say " Thank you " for every 
pin, every flower or bouquet; another who. having vowed to pray 
each day at ten, would drop her pencil or make some excuse to touch 
her knees rn the fliHir every day at that time ; a boy who, starting from 
the major premise that everything worth doing at all was worth doing 
well, would Iravc the reaper he was riiniiing in ihc field and go back 
to pick up every head of wheat behind; one who must pull every 
tiniest wce<l in the garden; children who copy and recopy a p3gc 
many limes if (here in the least error, misplnccd dot, comma, etc.; 
one who in a choir would stop singing if there was a sentiment in 
the hymn he was not sure he believed, etc. In this slate of nerves 
and moral touchiness, youth often grow irritable and have bitter and 
long conflicts with their tempers. Fears of having committed the un- 
pardonable sin, in rare cases, become tragic. There is a veritable 
obsession of the duly of deciding by some inner witness or outer 
token whether they are really Christians, or what vocation to adopt, 
and they often feel that right impels litem to do someihing they dis- 
like or arc unfitted for. The moral imperative may provoke sclf- 
efTacemem in many forms. A flitting thought of a possible crime 
startles them with the dread thai they might commit it. Thus the 
yotuig, if made to feel a moral strain to which they can not adequately 
respond, often nag themselves into crankiness, which suggests the 
ovcrscrupnlosity so fharacleristic of some forms of adok'scent de- 
generation, against which interesting occupations, objective life, 
intelligent symp.tthy by insightful aduEt&, and physical hygiene, are 
the only prophylactics. 

Sometimes this ethical perversion is directed to others. The lives 
of religious people arc found wanting, friends are criticized, social 
forms and the artiticiatilics of life arc keenly felt and work their 
disenchantments. The neophyte would reform his social environment. 
His insights are true and his judgments correct, but he soon &iids 
that he can no more reform the world than he can himself. His 
mental apcrcus are so far more developed than his will-power, that 
he feels baffled. rcluiiTed, heated by social frictions, thrown back on 
himself, whenever he tries to accomplish things. He ts utterly unable 
to meet tlic new demands he makes or recognizes, is impatient to 
$atisf>- his ideals, can make no form nf adjustment that is satis- 
factory, and every efTercnt impetus is balked. He knows and feels 
great things, but can do lillle or nothing. He feels the miglUy im- 
pulses of the everlasting ought and is ready to essay heroic ta^ks. 
but can bring nothing to pass. He feels himself superior in penetra- 
tion but very inferior in execution. All that he really could accom- 
plish seems mean and homely. 

Hence some form of renunciation is inevitable, for salvation is 
not by works. Thus the striver may relax and relapse to the old life 
of habit and the easiest way, and perhaps with a sense of wasted 


e0ort because he has done liis best and failed. He growi JnditTcrcnt, 
perhaps cynical tcward die good life, or possibly revolts and makes 
evil his good, and plunges into self-indulgence. There is often an 
intercalary stage of religious and ethical neutrality for months or 
years, during which the powers below consciousness are solving all 
his problems by their slow method of growth and all unbeknown to 
bim, till, in the d^noumn^nl, he is taken into partnersliip with his 
own under-soiil and achieves the second part of the process of re- 
construction. Or, again, in the more classical type, at the point of 
ijcfeat and bankruptcy of effort lo he wholly good and do all duty, 
there is a sense of surrender to some deeper powers fell to exist in the 
soul. There is recognition of older, surer, more potent agencies than 
those which conscious cfFort can command. The whole case is non- 
niited in the lower court and appeal taken to a higher and better one. 
A new d)-naniism arises from the depths of the soul which takes Uie 
place of conscious striving and seems like a new will or god working 
in us. The young convert feels estranged to both himself and others, 
because he is difTcrcnl from what he had so long been before. Hence 
he is prone to deem himself peculiar and not like others, because 
oolike his former self. He readily regards his mutation as super- 
(Btttral or miraculous, because it is too large for his mind to interpret. 
There is a changed center of apperception. All these arc normal 
Srowlb fonnuli, and all failures lo achieve true conversion arc forms 
of mental, moral, or emotional arrest or perversion, while every good 
motive or example of this age of life is an incentive to it. Thus In 
religious thmight. \\c must reverse current processes and argue from 
futio theory: from below upward; pass from man to God; look to 
tilt heart to explain creeds and not the reverse, for all religions are 
fonued to minister to human needs. Our quest should be from what 
piyctiic facts did faiths arise. Religion is of the emotion and instincts 
and not primarily of the mind. Buddhism is greal and the teachings 
of Jfsus divine because each codified antl organized a higher stage of 
hmin growUi, if proof is needed the suul of belief is gone. Sacred 
"uih is that which rings true to the heart, and many of the most reli- 
Fous people and the greatest doers arc foolish at reasons. Creeds are 
^\ cmde interpretations of wordless music, and the soul responds lo 
•Iw peat religicwis as a violin rightly tuned responds by sympathetic 
'ikratioij lo an orchestra. The thing is ta awaken an echo. Faith tells 
•^f secrets of the world in an unknown tongue, and Fielding Hall 
^es that it dies out with natural and racial fecundity. 

In some of our cases this psychic growth seems to be 
P'Tely spontaneous. On a walk, at a lesson, there is a sudden 
*«ise of a new, larger, and purer life, and this may be re- 
pirded as the decisive moment. New aspiration which may 
*i'en impel cjaculatory prayer, new insights, ideals, waves 
*^' iovc, resolves to do duty and attain perfection, and noble 



ambitions, break out and may take possession of life. Or in 
a quiet hour comes a sense of mora] discontent with self, or 
with companions, as if conscience sprung into function, or a 
sense of increased reality of the world or of greater serious- 
ness of life, a strange feeling of dependence upon same higher 
power, a passion for service. Or old truths open up new 
meanings, perhaps tliere are thrills or waves of joy or peace, 
reveries and even dreams grow intense almost to visions, 
phrases are automatically fonmilatcd. jierhaps spoken, or, in 
some cases, heard. Again, manifold clepressions arise no less 
spontaneously. O^'crblown personal vanity is suddenly con- 
fronted by a feeling of inability to do anything worth while 
and fears to disappoint all friendly expectation, while youth 
agonize to find some latent talent in themselves. They feel 
themselves dishonest, impure, slothful, guilty, or re\'engefuL 
Again the world recedes, seems afar, unreal, indififcrent, and 
mechanical, so that all interest dies or all is a bafHing mysterj'. 
God suddenly seems gone, or is bad because he made hell. Is 
there any truth or standard, or can 1 attain it? is a question 
that often marks the moment when, turning from the childish 
preoccupation with particular objects, the adolescent passion 
for the general and universal arises and a love of logic and 
self-analysis and an abhorrence of compromise come to the 
surface. All this is. as Tripsins has well said, essentially "a 
natural process of a higher order." It is growth, which has its 
own dynamics which always defies ordinary logic, but which 
here seems all the more mysterious because it is into a higher 
nature, somewhat alien to all that had preceded. It tends to 
no disorders of conscience or of life. 

In an atmosphere charged with religiosity each of these may be 
inlerprcteri by the individual as the beginning or as the substance of 
conversion and described in ils technical phrases. Among Coe's and 
other cases, one dreamed of taking an examination in his fitness to 
go to heaven; one had a vision of a broad and narrow way, saw a 
light out of a tomb, had a sense of presence, of some one dictating 
thoughts, heard an inner voice, saw a luminous eye in the ceiling, 
had a sense of being under two influences, one good and one bad, but 
both objective: one experienced an outtiurst of defiance to God. shak- 
ing the fist at the sky and telling him hnw unjust and hated he was. 
The heart is often now too nnich for the intellect suggesting neurot- 
icism, and feeble minds often develop casuistry, magnifying innocent 




things to sins of deepest dye, or a finicky susccptibilily " showing ihc 
undue dominance of a major premise." When the brotherhood of 
man dawns, young men in ihcir warm beds arc tortured into sleep- 
lessness by the thought that some of their fellow men arc cold.' A 
girl of twelve, on a visit, thought it sinful not to itll her hosiess if 
, she had taken a pin. Another eouM not decide on fine points of ex- 
'prcssion in a composition and worked herself almost into a frenzy. 
j-'Vnother ar^ed with herself on all small matters, and only learned to 
make prompt decisions when they were necessary by riding a bicycle. 
>A young girl, impressed by a neighbor's suicide, was overwhelmed 
-x^'ilh the fear lest she should kill her mother, which she rjuellwl by 
telling her of it. Another had fear of every post, avoided tracks, and 
suffered a long hydrophobia. 

VI. What contrast can be greater than when wc titm 

from these grimaces and tweaks of religiosity, to regard con- 

-v<rsion as the philosophy of history and religion and the germ 

o i all educational systems? I have collected and have before 

me (orty-two definitions of religion. They are as varied as 

■t %ne descriptions of religious experience. For some authorities 

it is essentially noetic; for others it is in the realm of feeling 

orv-olition; for others it is chiefly moral. All are instructive, 

<>«■ at least suggestive, but they. too. are so very diverse and 

Scsmetimes so contradictorj- as to be but broken lights, pcr- 

*^sps because they also largely rest, as religion is peculiarly 

I>«Tineto do. upon indivitlual differences of character and life. 

* f so, they are valuable only as bases of classification, or as 

l.^ta and material toward a real definition. Pending this. I 

ixaggest that religion may be descn'lied from the viewr-point 

'^f psychology as favoring the old and now often discarded 

•^^^miology of the word religion, as rcbintling. briitging hack, 

•^*~ as restoration. As natural, it is reestablished unity with 

'^^Mure; as ethical, a reunion of conduct with conscience; 

^s theoretical, it is a re-at-onc-ment of the mind with truth; 

^-s feeling, it is the ecstatic closing in again of the highest 

l<ive with its supreme object, or fresh impulse along a for- 

'^^ken but recovered path. The common elcttient is atone- 

•Tient with implication of previous estrangement or heteri- 

*^iion, the ecstatic closing in by faith or intuition wHh 

^'hat Is felt to be normative and central. The heart finds ob- 

iCoe: pfk 68, 69. 



jircts, the will duties, and the intellect truths tu adequately 
and truly express them, but all after more or less jeopardy or 
loss. The rciinion must be in the field of the higher nature, 
and must generally be achieved with effort and anxiety. How 
man carrie to deviate from his ideal, or the cause and extent 
of his departure from it; the form under which the ideal is 
conceived, whether subjectively or objectively; how the 
raf>f»rochcmetit is begun ; whether the process is transcendent 
or immanent, objective or subjective — important as they are 
for cult, theory, conduct, sentiment — arc less central. Re- 
ligion is the reinstallation of the individual or the race into 
its true place in the world, recovery to health or wholeness. 
Always and everywhere the (M-motif is present, however far 
in the background, and joy is always felt at the reascent. 

The very idea of catholicity. Bible, and even religion 
itself, means consensus, and assumes the same fundamental 
needs, instincts, and experiences for all. Always there was 
a primitive state of unity, hannony, joy. innocence; then a 
tension, a sense of error, loss, estrangement or gi:ilt, decay, 
fear; then something once more or less integral or dear is 
dropped, sacrificed, alienated, hated: thence results new life, 
joy. love, and restoration ; and lastly, there is growth along 
nt'w lines. These are cardinal, and each stage has countless 
interpretations. The primitive state may be materially con- 
ceived as one of nature, idyllic innocence, or instinct, and vari- 
ously located in lime and place, or as a psychic condition. Its 
loss has been slight or total, ascribed to maiiy internal, exter- 
nal, and even transcendental causes, thought to be objective 
and historic, or subjective and ideal, as deviation from a norm 
or disobedience of the commands of an outraged Deity. The 
sense of insufficiency may deepen to demerit and ill-desert, 
reaching even a passion for punishment, not merely for pur- 
gation bul also for retribution, that justice may be done; or 
a hunger may arise, no less intense, for the disclosure of a 
better way and strength to walk in it. The third stage has 
been ilescribed as losing a burden ; the surrender of a per- 
verse will; the mortification of the body, or even the loss of 
nn oflfending member; the sacrifice of possession, career, 
friends, or poverty, chastity, and obedience; the abandonment 
of culture and knowledge, or the limitation of science; the an- 



niliilation of will aiid desire; the reversal of former loves, and 
ambilion, or the substitution of a passionate passivity in their 
place, as the molt of the old self had to be more or less deep 
or complete. The fourth stage begins with a sense of salvage 
of something precious from the wreck. Despite all ihc loss, 
there is a reservoir of life abounding that ycl wells up from 
its deep springs, which may be formulated as a biological 
gifj of nature or as by divine grace, with an hcdonic sweet- 
ness at the root that may make us jubilant in chains, disease, 
pain, calamity, or even death. It is this euphoria of tlie soul's 
life tliat transcends every gratification of sense, possession, 
ambition, etc.. as far as the life of the race upon which the soul 
enicfs transcends that of the individual. Lastly, the sense of 
growth and progress to ever new and higher planes, which 
has made every conception of evolution so fascinating, is es- 
sential to the vitality of interest, curiosity, love, achievement, 
and of all our powers. All these are phases of the great 
diange of base from the egoism, normal and necessary to tlie 
first stage of human life, to the self-subordi nation of the stage 
of philoprogenitive maturity which is ri])cning to die for what 
it lives for, where love has done its perfect work and self has 
"passed to music out of sight," and where the Platonic eros, 
Pauline charity. Buddhistic .sympathy and pity, or Jesus's en- 
tiii»iasm for humanity, that loves the Lord and neighbors 
*ilh all mind, might, and strength, have taken its place. 
^lul more has life to give or its wisdom to teach ? 

There is a sense in whicii the story of primitive man, from 
'he troglodytes up, is a long passion history. For the most 
part, what we call the prehistoric period is so because it is as 
mihistorical as the story of kites and hawks. The struggle 
lor survival, beginning with the stem law in the animal 
■*odd. Rnt or lie eaten, shows that man has l>een a wolf to 
his fellow man. The infant comes crying into the world with 
the pain-field at first larger than the pleasure-field. The rem- 
nant that survives is small ; the ape and the tiger in man's 
^turehave died hard, or too often still survive. The l>cst of 
oscarry a heavy handicap of biological sin from our ancestors. 
Tragic guilt in classic drama, like the curse of Atrcus's house, 
* ^enie now revived in drama by Ibsen. Hoffman, and others, 
othibits the physiological effects of the errors or vices of the 


past Lucretius pities the estate of man craven by fear and 
his soul darkened by svperslition. Theology lately taught 
Uiat depravity may be tulal, ami lliat, for must, the sulTcrings 
of this world culminate in transcendental torture hereafter. 
At best, hfe is short; man is preyed upon b>' hundreds o£ 
diseases officially catalogued; death is sure and often comes as 
a relief. The inevitable hour, to many world-sick souls, makes 
every tick of the clock pathetic and the verj' lapse of time 
itself pitiful. The high aspirations and ambitions of adoles- 
cence shrivel as life advances, and because mnny of its prom- 
ises are unfulfilled, philosophers have urged that unless there 
be immortality our nature is a lie. Modem industry does not 
fit the hygienic needs of the body, nor mental work satisfy 
those of the soul. Monsters of cruelty and rapacity have 
been let loose as scourges of mankind and enemies of the hu- 
man race, and thus melancholy has abundant food to batten on. 
Many now urge that our race is decadent and degenerate, and 
even impeach modern civilization. The wise men suffer from 
an ignorance that is unfathomable, and to breaking hearts 
it has almost seemed as if man were but a parasite upon this 
clod of earth, whom the gods, if there be any, could not see wiUi 
a microscope even if they wished to. Thus even joy and beauty 
are pathic and have a trace of woe in them, or cv£n should not 
have been, because they torture man with a sense of what is so 
much better than he can possibly attain. So fallen is man, 
growing ever farther from heaven as he leaves childhood be- 
hind, that some, like Titlionus. would almost pray the gods 
to lake back their gift of immortality. World-woe may re- 
gard creation itself as a blunder or a crime, and regret and 
remorse not only rob man of all hope and self-respect, but 
make autumn and even twilight ominously bodeful of his 
darkening doom. If man be not an utterly lost and fallen 
creature, he is at least wretciied and an object of pity to 

Now man's self-pity and sense of his own loss and imper- 
fection are reRected, projected, ejected, or objectified in the 
transcendental realm as ill-will, anger, or even among the 
Greeks as jealousy of the gods, in fear of whom most have grov- 
eled, and against whom only a few Titanic souls have rebelled. 
But as human conditions slowly ameliorated and man asserted 


his dominion over beasts and over nature, we find, besides 
enmity, traces of pity in the gods and dcniigods whoiii he 
reveres. Buddha was smitten with the angviish of pathos at 
the thought of death, evil, and finitude, so that, abandoning 
all that makes life attractive for most, he sought to find a 
way out to peace. The labors of Hercules, Theseus, and 
Prometheus were merciful and sympathetic acts. Jove can 
remit his thunder and Jehovah grow slow to anger and com- 
passionate upon the intercession of his favorites. Thor, 
Siegfried, and even Beowulf, and many a culture hero, have 
waged war against the enemies of man, and deep in the popu- 
lar consciousness is the idea that the great souls, the saviors 
of the race from evil, who have died, may some time return 
to right things; reward those that have sufTered unjustly, or 
become intercessors with higher powers. Indeed, all great 
sncn and heroes have a soteriological function in the world. 
Wherever leaders appear, their followers are more or less pro- 
tected and sheltered in their shadow. Those who advance the 
kingdom of man by intellectual achievement, discovery, in- 
vention, teaching how to think the world more truly and 
economically: hght-bearers who become the hermits and per- 
bpsthe martyrs of truth; reformers, legislators, founders of 
rtliginns. who reconstruct society on higher levels; the great 
editors and re-editors of the sacred traditions of the race into 
•fealhless classic form; all who live out the inner life of con- 
wtlon; who are called, sent, or commissioned by the evolu- 
tionaiy push upward, which is the oracle of the soul — all these 
are immortal in the sense that their work is deathless: and 
wlien we reflect on what each century would have been wilh- 
«"ia few, or, at best, a few dozen leaders, we may well call 
them the caryatides in the temple of humanity, the true 
aristarchy, and. in a way, the saviors of man. because express- 
ing more fully his inner vocation. Many if not most of these 
^Bre loved Uieir task better than life, have helped save men 
from despair by widening tlie dominion of man and enrich- 
""gliis life; have been comforters, and all who live in their 
roropanionship. though it be across the centuries, are branches 
^ a true vine. Into their hands the destinies of the world 
have been largely committed, and its history is to a great ex- 
lent that of tlicir own thoughts and achievements. It would 


;y of adolescence 

be a bold task, far more so than to designate the hundred or 
thousand best books, to name these leaders, as Comte attempts 
in his worship of humanity. But while ttiese men are the best 
possessions of the world, it will never worship them. While 
these names are revered as the string are instinctively vener- 
ated by the weak, and while the hvcs uE many of them are 
pathetic enough, service to the race has not always been the 
ail-dominating motive, and lieroes scorn to either give or take 
pity. Like Nietzsche's iiarathustra. they would so resent it 
that to be pitied even by the gods would be matter for revenge, 
because a being who could pity would lack due respect for 
the object of his pity, and the latter would regard it as an 
insult. Only the weak crave it. Beggars show their sores 
and tell their stories, often more characteristic than their 
names or photographs. Weak women invent and group 
symptoms to excite the interest of doctors from an uncon- 
scious craving that accqjts pity as a pinchl>eck substitute for 
love. There is a real inebriation of pity, too. that makes it 
infectious. It seemed to the Stoic sage a disease, and Aristotle 
thought that, like fear, it needed purgation in the drama and 
othenvise, lest it grow too strong and overmaster the serenity 
and dignity of the philosophical mind. Spinoza thought it 
unworthy, because it wa? passive, and the modem world knows 
that it may take the fonti of a selfish inebriation that tinds 
no vent in efforts to relieve the siiffering that causes it. The 
very bodily manifestations, or, according to some theories, the 
somatic causes of it, are unworthy; hence, tlie hero is content 
to feel that no evil can befall a good man living or dead, and is 
satisfied to have attained salvation of his own kind in his own 
way; he rarely feels the pedagogical motive of helping others, 
and perhaps confirms his own pride with some evolutionary 
conception that the lowly, feeble, and weak are dtwmed to 
extinction to make room for the elect strong. This, especially 
in our overindividualized age. with egotism full-blown, ts 
one factor in explaining why some who have served the world 
best have neither loved mankind nor been loved. 

One characteristic of religious genius, however, has always 
been its wide and deep human sj-mpathy with man in all 
stations. In them, love, which is perhaps most closely asso- 
ciated with the care of the young, and has its best exempli- 



hcation in maternal sacrifice and in the purest love of sex, 
lias broadened to the phratry, dcmc, curia, gens, tribe, and 
clan, and to the poor, sick, and defective; it has developed the 
function of helper, and in its culmination has passed even be- 
yond national patnolisni to philanthropy, and, perhaps, even 
includes animals, and indeed all being. This "pathos of 
T-esonance " a recent writer (Lyon) would make ihc charac- 
teristic of genius, which is in a state of exquisitely sensitized 
9^apport with the entire human environment and feels keenly 
sA\ its joy and woe. This culmination is the result of long 
<rJcveIopment, because pity tends to be almost inversely as the 
^uare of the psychic distance from its object. The young 
can not pity because they lack experience with pain ; tlie rich 
cran not sympathize with the poor because they have not known 
j3overty; and tlie poor have no feeling for the suffering of the 
K-)di. Hence, the middle station in life is most favorable for 
^Iw wholesome exercise of this sentiment. Again, we see this 
i llustraled in the crude school penalties that have been devised 
"to correct it. The child who laughs at the lame has his own 
l«g tied, or if he scorns tlic hungry is himself made to fast. 
^ZZriminals of the pitiless type who torture and gloat over suf- 
fering that should cause tliem to grieve, are arrested at this 
^*agc and arc callous to dolorific sensations. So the blind, be- 
<=:ause the>' can not sec the expressions of pain, or the deaf, 
l>«caiise they can not hear ihcin, often seem cruel. But true 
^3Tnpathy, as Sutherland has shown, is as basal for morals a9 
J«sus made love the basal for true religion. Tlie very essence 
<^f youth consists in making this transit completely in all the 
<3 apartments of its nature and effectively insuring itself against 
■"elapse to cither miscrablism or sin. Every life is stunted 
■*Hat has not experienced this metamorphosis in some form. 
^t the Church allows it to fossilize, psycholog\', when it be- 
*:x:Mnes tnily biological, will preach it. Indeed, the chief fact 
*>*" genetic psychology is conversion, a real and momentous 
^^ange of unsurpassed scientific and practical importance and 
interest. It is one of the best criteria of the degree of culture 
^f different ages, races, religions, and communities, how it is 
Conceived, interpreted, formulated, and administered. It is 
t^he inner meaning of the savage initiations described in the 
■ast chapter, and from Paul's change of belief and Augustine's 



change of life and creed down to Scherer, from the 
formal and external confirmation down to the raost con\-ulsivc 
colorecJ Methodistic inner revolution, from the slowest anti- 
crisis theories of growth to the most cataleptic instantaneous 
reversal of life, the change has, at its core, an unchanged and 
constant clement beneath all its mutable fashions in different 
ages, races, and sects, viz., growth from a Hfe of self to one 
of service. That it is so often administered by those who have 
no conception of its vaster significance, or who lack all higher 
sanctity, and indeed that it is so often effective when con- 
ceived as a mere formal fetish or a windy mouthful of the 
most hackneyed and time-worn phrases, shows a vitality such 
as no other human culture-form has ever possessed. Even the 
most partial, degenerate, and aberrant forms of it. while they 
suggest tliat nothing so needs regeneration in all its ways, 
means, and conceptions as regeneration, still have incompa* 
rable efficiency when all else fails. If it often most needs 
to be saved from its friends, it still nwre needs to be psydto- 
logically restated and vindicated to Ixith religious, scientific, and 
pedagogic minds that have undervalued or even ignored and 
scoffed at it. 

Rightly understood, the historic period begins with the 
dawning adolescence of the race, the gospel of its infancy be- 
ing always and everywhere more or less mythic. If we could 
organize the strategraphic stages of the development of con- 
sciousness for all the historic record, somewhat as geologists 
have organized their science; if we could correctly describe 
the emergence of conscious mind from the primeval sea of in- 
stinct and impulse ; reconstruct the so evanescent " soft parts " 
and determine all the genera and species of all the paleo- 
psychic types from their fossils of implements, inscriptions, 
etymoloj^ies, myths and rites, degenerate, neurotic reflexes. 
excavated stonework, ancient niainiscripts, etc.: eliminate the 
effects of all retrogression periods, of erosion, iconoclasm. 
the fall of the Roman Empire, all dark and stationary ages. 
as well as the submergence effects of unrecorded generations; 
accotmt for gaps, flows, convulsions, inversion ; point to the 
best outcrop for every stage of mental evolution down 
through all the ethnographic mcso- and ceno-psychic strata; 
and thus sec some realization of the rude but magnificent - 


i'Kxm dimly and very diversely described by Hobbes as the 
Leviathan, by Comte as ia grand Uirc, by Hegel as the phe- 
nomenology of mind, by Hartmann as that of morals, by 
Lilienfcldt and Schafer as the social man, of which each 
indindual is a cell and each institution an organ, etc.. the 
genetic psychology of such a cosmic homo-safnens would be 
a perfect, normal, and unintermpled history of the human 
soul. His association processes would work by no such rudi- 
mentary laws as contiguity in time and space, but would co- 
ordinate from every race and land every typical expression 
by word or deed of every tendency, element, and stage. If we 
could mark everything upon a common scale as Romanes 
would correlate animals, infancy, and savagery, we slioidd 
tlifti have a standard to measure and also to compare progress 
in different civilizations; all categories would reveal their 
Mages in true relations of superposition, each, as in an ideal 
geologic section, marked by its characteristic types, while the 
diverse experiences of man would not seem lacking in unity or 
loo complex to have any character, as if its currents flowed 
in all directions and any culmination were possible, but life 
would be a consistent, continuous, complete, and self-support- 
ingwhole. For sxich a being, a citizen of all times and climes, 
lliedocr of all deeds and the thinker of all thoughts, the logi- 
cal and the psychogenetic order could never di.sagree, if, in- 
tleed. they were not absolutely and always identical. The 
philosophy of history, education, and life would be their 
s^iecl viewed from the standpoint of such a perfect, quasi 
liieanihropic consciousness, and man's curriculum would be a 
complete organism or a science of all sciences, while his phi- 
Iwopliy would not be an eclectic mosaic of glimpses, like a dis- 
Sttlcd map badly recomposed, but the tnie organic unity ttmg 
sought but still delayed. This is the ideal and goal of the psy- 
Aogenelic movement, which cross- sections previous modes of 
^ying the human soul. The achievements of geology and 
of aH tl»c cosmogenetic sciences have not. ]K'rhaps. altogether 
**<}uired the laljor yet needed to accomplish this work, but 
*c currents of endeavor already setting in this direction, 
*'*<1 the actual progress now being made, have given birth to 
' nctt' hope in the world already big with promise. This 
*ould be perpetual growth so rapid and manifold that, by 



contrast with the slow and often broken average progress of 
the race, any section of it would sccra a period of spring-tide 
and youth, of reformation and Sabbath. 

Our Bible conies nearer fulfilling this ideal than any other 
literature. Despite its deviations, redundancies, and gaps, 
when measured on such a program, it depicts the development 
of " Man-soul " in a way which, if it is rightly undersiood. 
leaves ilie best classics of the best races far behind. The Old 
Testament begins with the myth of cosmic origins and passes 
to the agricultural and pastoral stage of Cain and Abel, the 
heroics of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Moses and Joshua, the 
royalty- of Saul, David, and Solomon, the legal stage of law 
and justice which so appeals to boys, to dawning prophecy, 
etc. It is all objective, strenuous, full of incident, battles, 
dramatic incidents, and with a large repertory of persons. 
There is fear, anger, jealousy, hate, biit not love, and it de- 
picts an age of discipline and authority. Later comes the 
adolescent New Testament stage with its altruistic motives, 
and, Inst, the philosophic age of Pauline and other doctrines 
which appeal to the intellect. All this is nonnal and in 
pedagogic sequence, the order of which should not be reversed 
as is so often done in religious teaching. So. loo, Jesus should 
he taught first as a kind, noble, but natural man, for the at- 
tribute of divinity makes him uncanny and sometimes mon- 
strous to the child. But later the supernatural side of his 
being is necessar)- to fit the age when the heart and intuition 
so far outstrip the callow intellect." 

This can profitably be supplemented at certain points by 
some of the best material from other great ethnic religions. 
The passionate affirmation of monotheism in Mohammedan- 
ism not only ilhistrates how passionate may be the belief in 
one God. but it marks perhaps the next step above fetisliism 
and idolatry, against which the early history of Israel was a 
long struggle. To pass from this lower paganism to the idea 
of one supreme ruler of heaven and earth is a revolutionary 
conver.sion for, e. g.. .African triljes. where Islam missions are 
now making such rapid advances, as well as teaching temper- 


'This i* til el*borate() with reajMni in my article. Some FuntUuwaui PfU 
of SuD<Uy-ScboDl uid ttiUc TMching. I'cJ. StRi., Uvccmtier, If 


ancc, as Christianity does not. Confucianism with its 
reverence of age and worship of ancestors, its non-metaphys- 
ical, practical religion of duties and fomis of daily life, its 
I^ahsm and social conventionality, may fit the stage of boy- 
life and supplement the rules of Jewish legislation. /\t the 
top of the curve of life comes Christianity, forever supreme 
because it is the norm for the apical stage of luininn develop- 
ment, glorifying adolescence and glorified by it, and calcu- 
'lated to retain and conserve youth before the decline of the 
highest powers of the soul in maturity and age. Buddhism, 
with its doctrine of universal sympathy, renunciation, peace, 
poise, and repose, has special messages to mature men and 
women. The religion of the Brahnianic Vedanta is, as Max 
Miiller shows, the form of piety in old age and may supple- 
ment or at least tone the teachings of Paul and dogmatic 
theology, for. inconsistent as the two are in theory, both appeal 
to the nature of a Ciceronian old age.' 

From all this I draw one more inference. Jesus sought 
to fulfil and not to destroy, and so Christianity evolved from 
Judaism as another and higher dispensation of the same con- 
tent. In Hegelian phrase, a decadent faith was suhlated in a 
new ascendent one. Renan has shown how persistent in 
Christendom has been the id^ of a third and yet higher rev- 
elation related to ours as ii is to the Hebrew ca,non This 
achievement of Jesus will be not a less but a more sublime 
pedagogic masterpiece if it is regarded not only as in itself 
the most precious work oi the spirit but as a pattern and in- 
centive for us to do for other great but decaying religions what 
he did for Judaism, and if missionaries strive to fulfil rather 
than to destroy them. In some respects they are as susceptible 
of being a propedeutic of Christianity as Jesus made the Old 
Testament to be. They, too. are full of symljols. types, and 
prophecies, and if treated by the method of sympathy rather 
Uian that of criticism could blossom into new life and be re- 
generated in our faith, to which they point as directly and 
which they need for completion as much as did the religion of 

'This is elaborated in ui original and sngf^ttivebouk. now b preftk. bj» stDdml 
o| lUB*. I>r. Jean Do Buy. Some, but not all. of these princijtVi are worbcd otil 
hi thtsii bjr wy pnpil, .S. B. 1 lasleit. The Pedagogical Bible School, New York, 
p. j8i, 1904. 



Moses and David. The supreme mission problem to-day is 
the same for them as that which Jesus faced in Judea. They 
are degenerate and need an analogous new proclamation of 
what they ignorantly worship. The true problem is evolu- 
tion, not revolution, grafting and not uprooting, a revival of 
the best in them in this best age and not a fanatical running 
amuck. 'I'he missionary should proclaim that Confuciiis was 
a great sage; that Mohaninicd was a servant, in his way and 
day, nf the true Cin<i ; thai the Buddha was a religious genius 
who opened up a new way of peace and blessedness. Thus 
making sure tliat he is not ignorant of all the truth which 
every faith contains, cordially and enthusiastically apprecia- 
tive of all that is good, feeling all the devotion its worship 
and sacred writings can inspire, as Jesus first exploited the old 
cult, he will, if he is his tnie disciple, in his leaching sed< to 
advance to the next step and open a new gospel till old dead 
stalks put forth green shoots, bloom, and bear fruit. 

Finally, when this is attempted, as it is certain to be be- 
cause it is the only true and right way, these new growths 
will not always conform to Christianity as it is now under- 
stood, but there will be new features in these indigenous new- 
evangels. That of the crude fetishislic races may be more 
like a purifiwt Mohammedanism, and the latter may ripen into 
something like the ethical fidelity to duty of Confucianism. 
This, in turn, may sometimes prove to be as good a prepa- 
ration for our faith as Hebraism. The prematurely developed 
philosophic creeds of India may need to be rescued from their 
too early senescence and given a yoxilh they never had. I£ 
this be done with fidelity to these and all other systems, the 
product will be something of priceless value in rejuvenating 
old races and will seem at first nwv and strange to us. while 
we in our turn may be converted to an enlarged and enriched 
conception of our own faith as parts of which they will take 
their place, as surely as it is adequate to the culminating- 
golden stage of life, and our f>islis will also have a gtfosis that 
will niect the neetls of academic youth to whom neither ex- 
isting religions institutions nor our college philosophy now 
adequately minister. 



I Self cooscEoDSDCss, vanity, a/TecisiIoa, and showinjc off — Dms, nuuincrs— Feats, 
bngl^ng II. Anger, (^ugnoclly, rapres&iils. III. Fear, ihuck, blushing, biuh- 
riilii»c, modexly. IV. Piiy, s>']]i;i:i(h}-— Relucuoceiodiuenl — Susoeptibilily. 
V. Lore of home vertus running away ^Truancy, wftndcrera — RdUiont' to 
tenpenuurc and food— Animal and human migniiions. nu»ulgui. V[. School 
ii>d leachers ttrstu home and parenis — Imitaiion — Like and dislike of icoch- 
tn VII. Wider irradiations to adult ideals and plans for life— Ideals of 
voctfion — Influence of historic and Ublical characters — Home and foreign 
idcalj, VIII. I'ropeny and the money scnu. IX. Social judgment, cronies, 
■nd solitude— Ideas of punishment — Work together oiid alone. X. First 
tonns of spontaneous social organizations — Gangs — Predatory clubs. XI. 
Student life and organizjuions — Itanaliiy, infmitiligni. Class fccliDg, hazing — 
Sgorci cocicticB— Cierman sludeDI clubt— Secrecy, initiations, and the dud — 
Tdwo tvnv/gown — ideal relation of student and teacher— Caricolurc. XII. 
AiaociationK for youth devised or guided by ndul(«. {a) Captains of Tens — 
[i) Agaasix Ansociation — (r) Abstinence Clubs — (</> I'rinccly Knights — (f) 
Buds of Mercy — (/) Coming Men of Anierica^^) Marry Wadsworth 
ClalK-(>l) Voong Men's Chnstian ■\ssociaii(jn — {i\ Chrinion Endeavor; the 
itBs of its oath — {/) Epworth League — (-i) BroUierhood of St- Andrew — 
(/) Lutlier Lecgue — Cooeluston». XIII. Muteriol for tnond and sudal cul- 
Wre in : A. Ontoiy—S. Drama— f, The Arthuriad— Z>. The Bible— £, Hi«- 
lery — A new staudard of moral values. 

Ih the last four chapters we have tried to describe the 
peat awakening of love of the other sex and of nature, and 
^ffligious impressionability during adolescence, and to sug- 
pstthe proper treatment of these three feeling-instincts. None 
of these undergo more characteristic developments than does 
the social nature to the description and r^men of which we 
now proceed. No creature is so gregarious as man. and we 
^ hardly conceive him except as a member of the family 
iid emerging, as the boy and girl now do, to herome n sociits 
■"tribe, society, or political and indn^tria! comminiiiies. As we 
"avc seen, individual differences of all kinds are now suddenly 
•^^gniented. The interval lietween the strong and weak, the 
•^"11 and bright, beautiful and ugly, Ijecomcs far greater than 
^ ifas before. This of itself impresses upon each that he has 




some rank in a scale, with some above and others below, am 
he is very eager to know his place here. There is a new sense 
of passing some kind of unwritten examination in the world's 
school and a new rivalry to stand high and not low upon some 
of these multiplying and lengthening scales. Each sex, too, 
now feels itself rated by the other, and the approval of a larger 
and more adult environment is also sought. The result is z 
greatly intensified social self-cunsciousness which may Iw ex- 
pressed in bashfuEness, showing off. or affectation, accortling to 
temperament, environment, etc. To win good-will and avoid 
ill-will is now one of the strongest motives. Fame, glory, 
renown, leatlership, may now Ijecomc ruling passions. Praise 
is never so inebriating, and flattery is never so liable to cause 
conceit and a dualired hypercritical life, while censure, <lcrision, 
or failures that suggest inferiority are never so depressive or 
so liable to leave a permanent mark. Poise between indiffer- 
ence to the good opinion of others and excessive regard for 
it is never so hard as in this most plastic stage of both tempera- 
ment and character. 

I. Self -consciousness, vanity, affectation, and shounng off. 
One of the first and most serious of these new self-ratals in 
girls concerns the gifts of heredity.'. They become conscious 
of, ponder, and often discuss their eyes in color, size, expression, 
movement : their hair, its abundance, its hue, color, etc. ; their 
complexion, leeth, form, dimples; and study to show or con- 
ceal in most eflfective ways the good or bad that comes o£ 
breeding, blood, and family. They earliest in life and mucfa 
more so than boys are conscious of their ancestors, parents, 
relatives, etc.. and this normally, because their bodies and 
souls arc in some sense better organs of heredity than man'sj 

Dress is always modified in a way that is sometimes very 
obvious up the grades in school. The boy suddenly realize^ 
that his shoes are not blacked, or his coat is worn and dirlyj 
his hair unbrushed. his collar, necktie, or cap not of the latest 
pattern, while girls love to flaunt new fashions and color comrj 

' See aty itudy with T. I,. Smith : Showing Dff nnd Itoihfulness rs PhaKH ol 
Self-Consciousnifs*. T'cd. Scm., Jun*. 1903, val. x, pp. 159-199. Also J. Jli 
Hopper Die Citelkeii und ihtc Arten. WUrxburg, 1S90, p. 38. I 



binations and have a new sense for tlie toilet. The clothes- 
consciousness sometimes becomes a matter ol very exiguous 
fastidiousness, and those who never cared how the}' looked 
before become now very conscious of their attire. While dress 
has a psychologfy of its own, it is its ornamental, decorative 
function, however, which diiefly concerns us here. Very 
challenging is the homology between the dress, whicli nature 
provides for animals by an organic function, and that which 
man, by the psychic function, which Schleterrnacher was so 
ioad of paralleling with the organic, provides for himself. 
Loudness and dandyism ill-adjusted to wealth, station, or to 
£ood taste are frequent. The influence of dress upon be- 
havior is now given a place in ethical text-books. That not 
■nerely the quality of goods and their cut but their rigidity or 
softness has much influence upon conduct, spirits, and even 
■ Gfculation, respiration, and digestion, is plain, and the maxim 
often advocated of so dressing wherever one is as to be utterly 
unconscious of dress is probably unpedagogical even more than 
I it is at this age impossible to cany out. New styles of dress, 
toilet, or coiflfure fads, perfumes, ribbons, curls, souvenir pins, 
rings, bows, motto- Iwdges. new colors, charms, flowers, etc.j 
quickly permeate a school community, as Small has described, 
in the age of greatest plasticity to fashion.* 

Manners are, of course, minor morals and should be from 
xvithin outward, and not products of external environment 
They belong intrinsically to character and are normally the 
pliysiological economies of expressing the higher and better 
sentiments. Here girls are more plastic than boys, more apt 
ixi putting on and off vivacity, languishing moods, drawling 
spKch, fine ladyism, superior ways, accents, and airs of many 
Winds; their penmanship, pronunciation, choice of words and 
style are all subject to affectation; they are precise, easy, in- 
doJcnt, mincing, Iwisterous, and readily fall into acting roles. 
Both boys and girls often imitate even half-unconsciously 
Squints, position of lips, dialects, limps, coughing, stammering, 
a-ntl other speech defects, and even choreic symptoms, especially 
of favorite companions and teachers, or by way of mimicry 



of those disliked, sometimes almost to the point of impersona- 
tion, to say nothing of every trade and occupation. Various 
styles arc often successively aped until one is found or made 
by eclectic c^)[nparison that fits. Swagger ways. saccliariaity« 
mincing, aH'ability. hauteur, domineering loftiness, stoic ini' 
perturbability, and perhaps hardness, callous apathy and 
indifferejice. languor, poses for effect, affected smiles and 
laughs thought to be fetcliing, every type of gait, poise and 
carnage, lisps, staccato or presto styles of speaking, extremes 
of primness and formality, and of abandon, evcrj-thing by 
turn and nothing long — these show this to be a polymorphic 
stage of etiquette, bearing, and the style that does so much to 
make the man, and perhaps still more the woman. 

In feats, stunts, and " dares," boys lead and are most per- 
sistent in seeking recognition. The cruder excellences of 
strength and flectrcss. bicqis, athletic record, and physical 
achievements become centers of intense social and self-con- 
sciousness, Tnic to man's pedigree, Iwcause in primitive 
society the strongest was chief, they seek both distinction and 
victory. Aristotle long ago pointed out that true courage wa^ 
the mean between foolhardincss and cowardice, and in early 
youth we see both extremes before tlic mean is approximated^ 
If the former could be made as much a matter of reproach a9 
the latter, it would be well. Tlie instinct of courage wTongly 
directed by " dares," impulsions suddenly appealed to by sug- 
gestion, and the list of risks and calamities in boy-life due 
to crude and ignorant challenges of courage, show that fooU 
hardiness, if often an insanity or form of mental arrest and 
defect, is, however, susceptible of easy early remedy, caution 
being the normal form of maturity. Thus, too, the presence 
and new consciousness of the other sex and of adults greatly 
intensifies as well as refines. Skills and accomplishments of 
a higher nature have new social motivation. 

The bragging, kiastful lie is a psychosis by itself which 
has of late been somewhat treatetl in the literature of psy- 
chology. Here the truth is left behind and the imagination 
Munchausenizes in the field of romance, heroics, and rodomon- 
tade. Ruse and deception are only the fore-school to this form 
of self-inflation. One of the most interesting groups of slan j 
words has for its function the puncturing of these bubbles of 



fake achievements and experiences for uliicli chjldhoori and 
jouth have a keai sense and subject to summary treatment. 
Sometimes this is connected willi impudence, often a form of 
showing off, but which is normally reduced in the teens. 
Where it is persistent, aggressive, and defiant it is frequently 
motivated by a stinging sense of inferiority, which at this age 
may incline to malevolence. The philosophic and the scientific 
man has a deep and basal desire to bring seeming and being 
into complete coincidence, at least in most of the realms of life. 
lie would scorn to be admired for excellences which he does 
not possess, but demands recognition for rca) virtues. Perhaps, 
as a recent writer concludes,^ falsehood tends to develop in pro- 
jwrtion as society becomes complex, and its evil is that it 
dwarfs the generous, esthetic, and social sentiments, and leads 
to profound dissociation. 

Ibis instinct of seU- exhibition to win cotnmcnilation which now 
beroiiies so dominant plays, of course, .in enormous riile at all ages and 
at si! stages of life. Courting and combat also belong here. Insects 
snd Kill more birds compete; tlicy are dressed by nature in more bril- 
liaot huc», and take a new interest in displaying every charm of color 
<T form. Male wasps. buUerfJies. moths, fishes, frogs, and snakes 
abundantly illustrate all this. Birds .acquire and show off new charms 
at Ibc beginning of the breeding season. Primitive man is tattooed, 
fotioves hair or iccth. undergoes nuitilations, wears ornaments, etc., 
oriider the stress of the same instinct.' Tlicrc arc men and women 
' Wliose manner, bearing, voice and whole nature undtTgo immediate 
*»J sudden transformation in the presence of the other sex. Each 
should thus be inspired both to be, do, think, and feel his or her best, 
and thus each bodi supplements and complements, and helps to make 
*He other. 

Iil. Anger undergoes characteristic changes in the teens, 
^nd its expressions, before more alike in boys and girls, show 
^Ttarked sexual differentiations. In boys the fighting instinct, 
_ 'f unchecked, is more intense and lias new motives. The 
I "uraan being is no exception to the law of the animal world in 
*His respect. 


' Le Mentongc : G. L. Daprat. Puis, 190^, p. 1S3. Also N«rdau, Conrat* 
<i*)Qcae Ldcen, 1898- 

*Sk Scott: Sex and Ait Am. Jonr. of Psjr., Juitury, 1S96, vol. vij, pp^ 
» 53-116. 




Pugnacity is, in good part at least, a secondary sexual trait, arising 
near maturity and chiefly in the male. Some male grasshoppers light 
so that, Darwin tells us, in China they arv ni:Uchc<i like yming cocks. 
Ants Rghl and arc often found dead with maiitlibles locked, and so do 
male iicctlcs and butterflies whose wings arc often injured thus. Many 
oiaic fiih tight to the dcalh during the breeding seasun and on the 
spawning-grounds, and the teeth of the male adutl salmon become 
sharp and differ radically from those of the female. Male lizards can 
hardly meet during the spring without fighting. Most maJe birds arc 
pugnacious in the spring, and use beak, claws, and spurs on both wings 
and legs. With them the season of love is also the season of war. 
The male of some species is better equipped to drive off all oilier males 
than to wuu the female. Most mammals arc desperate fighters for the 
females and often develop special weapons of offense and defense in 
the spring. Male stags arc found dead with thctr horns inextricably 
locked. Stallions kirk and bite, and mane is often protective. Bull 
seals, elephants, male beavers, giraffes, whales, hares, bears, beasts of 
prey, antelopes, walruses, buffalo, etc., all arc known not only to follow 
the law of battle often to the death, but to know just how to make the 
most effective cut, thrust, blow, that their peculiar weapons, whatever 
(heir posttiun, make pussililc. Beards, dewlaps, some accumulations 
of fat, callosities, and carapaces are essentially protective. Man's 
anthropoid progenitor fought less with looth and. jaw as he became 
confirmed in the upright position ; the hands were freed from the work 
of locomoiion and used to strike, and weapons were developed. 

Long stories of struggles to suppress anger are most fre- 
quent with girls. Where it has been yielded to with abandon 
before, there are now manifold eflforts to pause and weigh the 
facts, attempts to bring up counter motives, struggles foi 
diversion, realizations of how painful its vents and even its 
facial expressions are to others, and retirements to 6ght it out 
alone or conceal its ebullitions. Often, and especially with 
girls, there is an increased irritability that demands special 
prophylactics, and explosions now are smothered into sulki- 
ness. To veil it in smiles usually prolongs it. Revenge is 
often fondly nursed and its gratifications more studied and 
elaborate. Sometimes a single spasm of anger seems able 
to expel aflfection forever beyond the power of pardon. Many 
mention a peculiar mental inebriation or exhilaration in it 
which makes them feel more alive, so that even where its 
potential does not pass into its kinetic form, but is held in 
leash, there is an increased sense of both exaltation and power. 
Often there are a few spasmodic outbursts, which carry the 

^ -■— IflP: 



imiividual away into a frenzy of rapt passion, and then the 
physical reaction of weakness, fatigue, shame, apologies, re- 
grets for wounded friendships, are experiences which mark a 
change to a steadier type. Above the sense of satisfaction that 
justice has been done, the truth spoken, the basis for a new 
and better understanding laid, arises now the view that, after 
all, it may he left to others to right the wrongs of the world. 
At adolescence anger grows more inward, and the effects are 
less in the somatic and more in the psydiic sphere in which 
a far larger area of causes is now open, and expressions more 
sanctioned and refined are found. As the mind grows large, 
there is more space for the subjective expenditure of energy 
and for thinking unutterable things. Tension is often vented 
in prolonged physical exercise; religious and altniistic motives 
arc appealed to; the childish forms of biting, striking, scratch- 
ing, making faces, and all the invohmtary modifications of 
phonation, respiration, and salivation are changed. Often an 
outbreak causes vasomotor disturbances that begin at this age 
of instability, and especially during menstruation these psychic 
weather-signs may affect secretions. One of the chief causes 
is the thwarting of purpose and expectation, limitations of 
freedom, a sense of injustice, invasions or repression of the 
self, and as all these are greatly increased at this age the lia- 
bilities to anger grow with them. Jealousy, although not 
originating at this time, takes now a sexual form. Angry 
feelings now seem to the subject often spontaneous, partly 
because he can not analyze all the new and complex incite- 
ments to it. but partly because there are new erethic needs of 
the system that demand this tension. Now the sense of being 
-misunderstood, contradiction, the very presence of those who 
■aare distasteful, distraction, and lofty ways are more liable to 
anflame the temper. Even in the midst of its greatest heat, an 
-almost independent psychosis of philosophic reflection is often 
^arri*!d on. Sarcastic things to say are thought of, and per- 
Iiaps written out. but not uttered, and if fury of an epileptic 
■•ypc is not stippressed there is danger of criminality. Anger, 
■*' sweeter than honey," as Homer calls it, may be nursed and 
"Vented in fantastic schemes of revenge in which some find 
it a luxury to revel. It is really an expression of and 
seU-fceling, while the immense role that this invasion by what 


seems like an alicii dcmotiic pers<:malily may assume is seen in 
the scores of words in English which indicale it.' Only weak- 
lings are incapable of it, and righteous indigiiatioit has dcme 
much of the best work in the world. But as with love, pity, 
and fear, a large pan of the echication of the heart consists 
in directing it aright or against objects worthy of it. These 
psychic storms sometimes seem to clear the mental air, give 
a sense of strength and a keener appreciation of justice, and 
prompt cowards to be heroes. Up the evolutionary scale they 
have marked a pcjint where our animal progenitors ceased to 
flee in fear and turned upon their foe, so that those who ac- 
quired the power to discharge the most volcanic reactions 
against their enemies survived, while those who lacked it 

Til. Fear, or anticipator>' pain, is probably the great c<luca- 
tor in both the animal and the human world, even science being 
developed in large mea.ture for prevision or to eliminate shock 
which is so di.s integrating to the system.' Those who fear 
aright survive. At adolescence the fear system is modernized 
and otherwise profoundly reconstructed, and becomes reason- 
able. Fear of lacing tost passes over to fear of losing the 
points of the compass; fear of great animals, real and imagi- 
nary, diminishes, and tliat of bugs, spiders, snakes, and creepy 
things is augmented with the new dermal sensations for mini- 
mal contact ; fear and a desire for protection is less eflfeclive 
in evoking love either for God or man. Dread of diseases, 
which is often intense and secret, is greatly increased and may 
become a causative factor, so that if the mind can cvire the 
diseases it can make in adolescence it does much. In general, 
physical fears decline and social fears increase as do those 
in the moral and religious realm. The new feeling for per- 
sonahty seems at first to make both God and ghosts more real. 
There are far more fears that others will suflfer. Objects of 
fear are seen much farther off, and protective activities have 
a wider range. Many fears are toned down into respect, rcver- > 

• Sec my Sludy of Anger. Am. Jnnr. of Psy., July, 1(^99, vol. x. |^, 516-591. 

* This I think a fair inference, alilinugh never yttt drawn, from all the facts 
gathered by GrueninKcn, Ucber den Shnck ; Wievtxulcn, j88j, p. 355; and hf 
Oppenheim, TrouauUlschc Neu[4S»en; Berlin, 1891, p. 333. 



mee. and awe. and an incrensinj:; proi«irtion of dreads arc of 
|)5ychic rather than of physical suffering. Every new desire 
means a new fear of failure to attain it. Childish fears are 
among the very oldest elements of the soul, and the fact that 
ihcydo not fit present conditions but do fit a past environment 
so well is the basis of sonic of the strongest arguments for 
pivchogencsis. The plasticity of the psychophysic organism 
in vouth makes It often peculiarly convidsible.' Giildren fear 
Jtrangers, but adolescents blush in their presence. The Swedish 
hh^scl means both bhish and shame, which is partial fear. The 
diief blushers arc adolescent girls, especially in the presence 
ol those of whose sj-nipathy and good opinion they are not 
well assured. The blnsh at cmpliinents is ihe vasomotor 
survival of a state when to be admired meant danger. 

Our data suggest that bashfulness in some directions may 
go with ostentatious conduct in others. This, liowcvcr, seems 
to be exceptional, though not abnormal. Where the nascent 
SCTseof the social-self takes the fomi of diffidence this in the 
utrcnie may become almost cataleptic. Kcspinition, circula- 
tion, eating and swallowing, speech, common industries like 
Wtting, ciphering, etc., lose precision, and are perhaps more 
or less inhibited. Automatisms, like giggling, chewing the 
tails, twisting the hair or clothes, writhing, trembling, and 
awkwardness in its many forms, where the fundamental move- 
ments are exaggerated as the accessory are reduced, may 
appear. The sense of being observed more closely than usual 
or by strangers or numbers of people is paralyzing to the 
oilier activities and may bring out primordini ones like cry- 
ing, hiding, etc. All these effects are greatly heightened, not 
only if the child has been unusually alone or neglected, but if 
observation of its acts has generally been associated with dis- 
approval, failure, defect, or has led to ridicule. The really 
%, retiring child is sometimes an only child or sickly and 
undervitalizcd. Partridge says, " It is generally agreed that 
^Jt.'-liing increases at puberty." * The diffidence of some very 
Sfnuinc young men is almost incredible. They go far out of 

See my Slady of Fears. Am. jnat. of P«y., jMiuary, 189?, vol, viii, pp 
'«-»«■ Alwj L. DuRas: Iji Ttmidil* ; Paris, 1898; and P. Hattcnl>rag: L«9 
Tmidej et U Tiniidili; P«i». 1901. 
'BlMhing. P«d. Sem., April. 185;, vol. iv, pp. 387-394, 



their way to avoid meeting a girl on the street who seems to 
them a being almost too worshipful to speak to. Others can 
not go into society without the stimulus of some intoxicant 
to give them lioldness. Some are sleepless in advance, imagin- 
ing every embarrassing gaiulicri^ they feel sure to commit. 
Some country youth so dread new faces that they become 
solitary in their habits. Some are so impressed by the su- 
periority of all who have confident manners that they are 
speechless in their presence, and their feelings may develop 
into silent and unsuspected hut intense hate. Both blushing' 
and flushing are subject to very wide variations in the manner 
and place where the)* begin, in their causes, in the subjective 
and somatic feelings that accompany them, and in their reac- 
tions, mental and physical. In morbid blushers, there may be 
tremors, mental confusion, chill, weakness, dizziness, stutter- 
ing, etc. A perusal of this literature suggests to me when I 
have never seen mentioned, that wc have here in every respect 
a perfect, though miniature and circumscribed, epilepsy with 
its aura, its crisis, and its reactions, and that this adds a very 
interesting point of attack for the further study of this inter- 
esting psychosis. 

Socrates thought modesty one of the very best adornments 
of youth because it involved docility and a sense of sometliing 
above and bcj-ond yet to be attained, while a too early sense 
of confidence and lack of deference is often a sign of preco- 
cious arrest. An interesting fact that seems brought out by 
returns is that while boys in general are more prone to the 
overt forms of showing off, they often incline in early 
adolescence a little toward modesty, and girls, usually a little 
more retiring at this period, now become for a time less so. 
Possibly this may be reminiscent of a time when the human 
female, fonnerly like the female in the animal world less 
beautiful than the male, by ornament or a new access of attrac- 
tion from nature hccame more so, and the initial forwardness 
of girls may be a rudiment of the age when woman was the 
acti\'e agent in domesticating man and developing the family 
father in ihe way Bachofeii and Dntnimond suggest. On this 
view wotnan must once have had courtship proclivities for a 
prolonged period after as well as before motherhood. Her 
endeavor was to hold man by her own attractions to his duties 



and responsibilities in the long ages that preceded marriage 
I which clenched these obligations. Thus the inherited effects 
)f a primeval desire to hold are now added perhaps by tachy- 
genesis to the maiden desire to win him. If this be correct, 
modem woman's wish to please is the survival of a not yet 
spent momentum of her culminating achievement in the great 
work of domestication. 

Intense consciousness of others and perhaps even artificial 
conduct arc a necessary disciplinary stage, but excess makes 
character hollow, dramatic, and attitudinizing. The tendency 
of both extremes of this is toward a type recc^nizcd by 
recent writers in characterolog^- from Nietzsche to Kihery ' 
as amorphous or unstable. Youth must also hew out their own 
lives and develop personalities of their own without modeling 
them too much on alien patterns, for thus only can they ac- 
quire character which gives a basis to just self-conhdence and 
due se]f -assertion. 


TV, Pity. Few sentiments undergo a greater increase 
of both depth and range at this age than those of sympathy 
iand pity.* These feelings arc not highly developed in chil- 
dren, but become exquisite in youth. Few of its former ex- 
citants now lose power, but nearly all are greatly increased 
and a vast number of new ones arise. Romance is usually now 
more pathogenic than fact, because youth often has little per- 
sonal acquaintance with poverty, illness, evil, and human 
suffering generally. In Chapter XIII we saw what Passion 
Week now means for this feeling, The irrevocablencss of the 
^ast, too, that makes every tick of the clock a re([utcm, the 
■self-pity of cramped conditions in one's own childhood, the 
sense tliat our souls are larger than our destiny can be, that 
'^e have the elements of a greatness we can never attain: all 
"•his intensified by the sad autumn psychoses of falling leaf 
■^nd fading flower, and by that oi twilight, often make youth 
"•acrimose and lis very heart to wail, but it all seasons and 
^3obers us to maturity. Tenderness of heart should now sup- 

■ Euu de ctAssil^cfliion natorclle da carftciire. Pan*, 1901, p. 156. 

' hly, by F. H. Ssundcri and myself. Am. Jour, ol P»y., July, 1900, vol. xi. 


press callous ways. The latter are degenerative, but the 
former, which brings the heart into sym])athetic vibration with 
every order of life, is the mark of superiority and even of 
genius. The sad fact is. however, that instead of broadening 
now to a full humanistic altruism and knowing how every 
type of sorrow feels, this instinct may narrow to some few 
fetishistic forms. It should ripen into benevolence, charity, 
kindness, and universal good-will. Sympathy, If Sutherland 
is right, is not merely an esthetic principle to be interpreted 
on the narrow basis of Greek tragedy, but it is the germ of 
all the moral faculties and strikes its roots deep down into 
the world of gregarious animal hfc. Hence, more even than 
fear and anger, it needs the most careful guidance in its stage 
of efllorescence, and ils problem is closely bound up with that 
of moral education. Even the ideals of a gentleman and of 
a lady often center in these powers of sympathetic apprecia- 

One form of sensitiveness commoo in adolescents ex- 
presses itself in an extreme reluctance to dissent from the 
opinions or purjioiies of others, especially adults. S^Tupathy 
is so quick and ready th;it alt the mental energy is expended 
in trj'ing to get into the closest rapport with alien sentiments 
and self-assertion is for a time almost entirely in abeyance. 
We have many records of long statements of religious views, 
judgments of character, purposes and intentions, interpreta- 
tions of current events, verdicts by gossip of happenings in 
small communities, which are held and perhaps actively as- 
sented to and helped along in a way which sometimes causes 
entire misapprehension by the adult : or they are mistaken as 
promises where none were intended, and may utterly belie the 
real interests, beliefs, and plans of the hearer, who effaces 
himself to a degree that lie funis an object of astonishment 
afterward, and doing so only because his entire energies are 
so focused in anticipating and reenforctng what is heard that 
there is nothing left in him with which to dissent. This is 
sometimes based on an almost morbid delicacy of feeling, 
which makes any shade of disagreement seem a form of hardi- 
hood that is too much of a strain upon the callow character. 
With Rousseau, there seems to have been a spice of conscious 
flattery in this sensitiveness. It often prompts people to say 


what they think will please and to even swerve from the truth 
to ifratify a friend. Voiuig women not infrequently acquire 
the reputation of lying solely from their passion of accommo- 
dating themselves to their guests or neighbors. This, too, is 
now perhaps a legitimate expression of the social instinct 
which has not yet found the true balance between adjusting 
and adapting to the tastes of others and to just self-expression. 
Some carry their self-abnegaiion so far that, divining by a 
TQpfH>rt that seems almost mystic, the lines of tastes and likes, 
they develop almost a passion for saying only what ministers 
to these. Their compliance can be sometimes so played upon 
tiiat they make the most self-contradictory statements. This 
in extreme makes the social parasite and political henchman. 
It was utilized by the Greeks hy apprenticeship to a mentor 
wbo must never do or say an unworthy act or word before his 
prot^e. and suggests the need of hero-worship to rightly 
<lirect the passion of admiration. Tlie opposite instinct of 
t^[x>sition. also strong now, is an outcrop in the psychic field 
of the tendency to vary, in biology. Tc^cther they enable 
roan to adjust to new environments.' 

V. Love of home versus the imffuise to leave it. One of 
fte best measures of donieslication in animals or of ctviliza- 
tioa in man is the intensity of luve of home. This is a very 
C':'mp!cx feeling and made up of many ties, hard to dissect, or 
tvcn to enumerate. Kline - attempts to analyze the factors of 
low of home, in the order of their intensity, as follows : love 

'SbaD's el»crv*ti(ms cited Above arc here in point. AlW talkinR of pcHume 
■* >Dg^lMo, be sprayed distilled water in school. rooms, and ankcd cU.uo up 
*«piies how Riiny tinclled ihc perfume, tn ihc Tww lower f[racl» the niiijriiily 
^M,aiid there WHS only one to five percent of skeptics. In ihc Afih, vxth, 
*^WTeBlh grades the decline wu most rapid, and in the eighth and Iiiffh scltout 
V^ iie«rl)r all were skeptics. Unrortunaicly, Small'* texts for illasions of sij^ht, 
'"1^ Bwdon, heal, cold, aod touch, were no! carrii:il up the pradrs, so thai while 
tway inrtnifr » similar (growth ot inc»cdulity with pubcity in thenc re»pecis. it is 
"■yw proved. From liis stuJien of imitniion anil neurmes induced by sugjjes- 
^Aanudlc imitation, nnd expecially Kchonl (adi, ui which Inltcr he tludicil one 
^■•lui anil eighly-lwo iliRereni form*, it would appear thai certain kinds of imi- 

*'^ire tDcreased ami other* decrea**!! al pultcrly, but we liuve nut yet sufficjenl 
'**lo(ijnBola(c a Inw. 

n* Mi|^atory Impulse vi. Love of Home. Am. Jour. <if Psy., October, 

'°i^. »«i «, pp, i-gi. Historically tlic tribe precedes the family. 



of parents, scenery, liousCj familiar ways, freedom of opinion 
and conduct, relatives and friends, animals, pleasant mctnorics. 
sympathy, etc. We often find specified also the room, articles 
of furniture, the garden, hills, trees, rocks, meadow, streams, 
frankness of expression, leisure to do as one pleases, liberty 
to arrange things to one's taste. All these make up the con- 
tent of that magic word, home, of whicli tite hearth with its 
allar-tire is the heart. It inclines to settled habits of life, is 
the converse of the roving instinct, and is largely woman li 

It is, however, a recent development, and children, true to 
their function of revealing the past, sometimes almost as soon 
as they have acquired the upright method of locomotion as 
if intoxicated by "out-of-doors," start off. and by some inner 
impulse, go on and on with no idea of where or why. tein|rted 
by an open gate or by the instinct to follow a man or vdiicle, 
or as a just-hatched chick follows any moving thing. Some- 
times these outbreaks are perio<tic or due to being shut up too 
much. When a little older they may sell all their trinkets, 
and as they go leave their luggage, then coat, hat, shoes, etc., 
by the way. as if with progressive dislike of the accouterments 
of civilization. When this truant instinct is strong and hered- 
itary, as is often the case, tying will not prevent it. and where 
the child feels the impulse to abandon everything and go with 
the birds, dog, car. circus, clouds, or to see where the road goes, 
to see what will come ne.xt, etc., this may be irresistible and 
almost epileptic. Such children often have a weak instinct 
for property, act by fits and starts, liave few toys and little 
spending money, perhaps are underfe*.! at home, arc indifferent 
to rags and dirt, but may be bright, pretty, and well adapted 
to beg and make their way in the world. One of the strongest 
motives for running away from both home and school in yung 
children is, as wc saw, to get to and play in the water. While 
the blind impulse to be off and ?way, or to go for the sake of 
going, is strongest soon after children can walk, and declines 
pretty steadily during the early years of life, the sununer leads 
all other seasons, until from the ages of eight to ten. Spring 
runaways then begin to exceed those at any. and at fourteen, 
exceed those at all otlier seasons combined, continuing to do 
so for some years. Ennui, malaria, space-hunger, horror of 


familiar environments and habitual duties, and spring fc\-cr 
are comparatively infrequent as long as children arc sexually 
iler; but at puberty, reaction against the confinement of 
winter impels many to leave the hibernating quarters and 
makes some habitual vagrants. 

At the dawn of adolescence tliis impulse to migrate or 
wander shows a great and sudden increase. The restlessness 
of spring is greatly augmented. Home seenis narrow, monoto- 
nous, intolerable, and the street and the motley passers-by 
interest and invite to be up and away. Injured feelings, 
wounded 'omoKr proprc, love of nature and solitude, a sense 
that their environment is above or perhaps below them, anger 

[and resentment, reaction against authority; impntieuce of all 

'restraint, dread of tedium, and a desire — to use Kline's phrase 
— " to shelve all old impressions," and " indulge a yearning 
for and into space," an intensification of the motor-sense that 
makes riding or going a charni and sedative, and, alwve all, 
the impulse to test themselves by measuring their powers 
with those of others, to find how they stand and rank, and 
whether they are weaklings or heroes, to sec the great world 
and find out what it is, to find the luck that must be lurking' 
for them somewhere, or to set up for themselves and begin 
life on their own hook — these are the motives, this the strong 
reenforcemenl of tlie roving impulse, that makes the boy in 
the school-room chafe like a caged bird in the season of migra- 
tion. It is the age when by far the most children satisfy the 
I^al requirements of school attendance and leave it forever. 
This instinct, if not normally developed and then reduced 
again by the right correctives, has many strange forms of per- 
sistence into adult life in the gad-abouts, globe-trotters, vaga- 

. bonds, rovers, gipsies, tramps, or those interesting psychic 
Bpecics who move or change their vocation, go from country 
to city, from housekeeping to boarding, the swappers and 
traders of all they possess, an uni<|ue type of travelers, with no 
purpose but to go, boatmen and trainmen, who for love of it 
can not leave their vocation, the passionate shoppers, meeting 

i8nd funeral goers, gossips and newsmongera. hunters, fisher- 
and other restless classes who are averse to all static 
conditions, and in whom the home-making instinct is dying 
out. Kline undertook to classify by age the strength of 




motives which impelletl to first leave home. His cur\*e shows 
the love of adventure rising very rapidly to ten and almost 
steadily thereafter to nineteen, when his survey ends. At the 
latter age, this, he thinks, accounts for nearly sixty per cent 
of all cases. The motive of seeing the opposite sex, which 
begins at thirteen, rises at nineteen to nearly thirty per cent. 
The motive of starting in life shows also a marked adolescent 
rise, while the desire to sec nature as a motive declines, and 
loneliness, very strong In childhood, is almost extinct as a 
motive at fourteen. Spring, of course, is the mating, as it is 
the migrating, season. Most of the migrations of savage man, 
in his three stages, frugivorous, fishing, and hunting, in whom 
the tVanderlust is strong, and most of the great historic migra- 
tions, from the okl hypothetical home of man in Eurasia, oc- 
curred in the spring. Vacant souls are at no season so irksome 
to their possessors. Climatology, hunger, and need of a higher 
rate of metabolism, and many other factors are, of course, 
involved, but we can not fail to associate spring fever and the 
increased love of freedom and independence at the onset of 
puberty with the basal instinct, which shows itself statistically 
in the vernal increase in the number of marriages and the 
number of illegitimate children who are then begotten. The 
schohrcs 7^aganies. who spent the vacations of the me<lieval 
universities in roving, with specially granted licenses and im- 
munities both to do so and to beg. sing, and write letters for 
the unschooled peasantry, and who displayed their small learn- 
ing and courted rural maidens, were manifesting secondary 
sexual qualities and illustrating the courting and nest-making 
instincts in their callow stirrings as truly as, though less ob- 
viously, than the jonglaids and troubadours of the eleventh 
and twelfth centuries, whose methods have l>een cailwl ihe most 
refined of all the expressions of mate-seeking propensities. 

N'otwithstanding many interesting recent special studies upon vari- 
ous aspects of the subject, wc still know far too little of ihc psychology 
of ihc inieraiory ivrsus the sessile instincts in men and animals. It 
seems to DC a biDlogical law thai animals require a certain range and 
arc injured by greatly transcending or restricling it. Young, In 1885, 
showed ih.-!!, other conditions being constant, and within considerable 
limits, the larger the vessel in which tadpoles were reared the larger 
tlicy grew. Insular animals, too, are usually smaller than their coo- 



Bnental congeners, and smaller trout are usually found in smaller 
strcums. Many animals reported by Dc Varigny, Jordan, Dclbocuf, 
ant] others, tf not well d(>ntc>Jticatcil, seem tu be reduced in sizL- t>y 
captivity. Every form of animal life has its optimum lemperature 
most favuraMc to nutrition and grtiwlh, Its oi>timum amount of average 
light, moisture, oxygen, electricity, atmospheric pressure, quality and 
amount of food and drink, and if any of these slowly change, or there 
are changes within the organism itself with reference lo these cosmic 
or telluric conditions there must be readjustment or re-acclimatiza- 
lioTi during a period of more or less conscious discimtenl ; lience the 
changed metabolism, body temperature, and new appcTitcs of pubes- 
cence. Careful cxpcrinicnts show that polliwogs and still lower forms 
of life, in a trough of water some yardsi long, one end of which can be 
cooled and the other heated, tend to settle at that intermediate point 
where the temperature is most favorable for their growth, or seek their 
metabolic optimum and migrate from one end of the trough toward 
the other as this point changes, as lobsters migrate from deep to shal- 
low water in ttic spring and back again in the fall. Sand-crabs cotne 
d(m-n the hill lo the water to lay eggs in the spring and return, leaving 
the young to follow them later, a habit akin to that of the common toad. 
Tbcn, many forms of life on sea and land arc drawn lo the shore to 
breed. Anadromous fish, like the mackerel, shad, bluelish. menhaden, 
herring, migrate mostly horizontally, but often more or less bythniical- 
ly.and so do many catadromous fish, like eels, which are horn in the sea, 
go up tlic rivers to mature and then return to the sea, which they never 
kave. The salmon, that "king of fisli " which can leap twelve feet 
iKTjiendicularly out of water, has a migration frenzy when pushing 

I from the sea up rivers sometimes more than a iliousand miles, which 
fcrings it to its destiny often with the skin in rags, and its 6ns. tail, eyes, 
MoA head bruised and torn. Some of our birds, like the bobolink, go 
»*)rth in the spring from Florida, and from the Middle or New England 
-States turn west, sometimes as far as Montana, returning by the same 
^^arcuitous route, because it was the way by which they entered the west ; 
"^^ hile eastern birds come and go via Texas and Mexico from and to 
^^Tcnlral America, where they winter. Many birds leave the south when 
^^^ealhcr and food are of the best to penetrate the bleak north loo early 
* *i spring with a regularity as sure as the almanac. The retreat of the 
^^"lacicrs, which by annual freezing and thawing narrowed and widened 
^-•ic subsistence areas, can not account for all of even bird migration; 
^J -either can climate, for birds do not follow a constant temperature. 
-'^^eir migrations are often east and west, but it is coming to be held 
^-*"»at it is changes in the reproductive organs that first upset the fit of 
^^ ■■ ivironment and separated food from hreeding areas. While condi- 
«3n* thai make the food supply constant through the year often check 
igration. sterility causes the barren members of (he same group to 
fuse lo migrate. The lemming and about a dozen species of rodents 
•g'sie. as do reindeer, antelopes, some sfjuirrcis, and wolves, while 
■**^rsei, cows, sheep, dogs, cats, hens, ducks, and turkeys often revert 


to the feral habit of wandering, especially in the nuLttng season, and of 

hiding their young. 

Primitive man perhaps originated in the tropics, was frugivorous, 
and, if he followed food, his niij^rations were seasonal. When he 
learned to subsist on fish, especially from inland lakes, he became more 
sellled. The hunting stage, which may have persisted far longer than 
civilization, placed an immense prcmiuni on wandering and the results 
of a lucky arrow or find. The nomadic life preceded and very likely 
was far longer than settled agriculture has been. Helwald thinks